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V 


























SNAP 


A Novel. 


BY MELVILLE PHILIPS. 

’\ 


“A snapper -up of unconsidered trifles P — Shak. 


3* 




PHILADELPHIA : 

HARPER dr BROTHER , PUBLISHERS, 
No. 4.13 Walnut Street. 
l88l. 




pzs 


.PS*' 


r i 2n 


COPYRIGHT, 
HARPER &> BROTHER, 

1 88 1. 








CONTENTS. 


Chapter. 

Page. 

I 

{Snip, Snap , Snorum ) — Snip, 

1 1 

II 

A Clerical Snap, 

15 

III 

A Snapped Song , 

22 

IV 

A Scholar Snappish, 

32 

V 

(Snip, Snap, Snorum) — Snap, 

44 

VI 

(Snip, Snap, Snorum) — Snorum, . 

5$ 

VII 

Literary Snaps — Parcel One, 

7 i 

VIII 

Literary Snaps — Parcel Two, . 

95 

IX 

The Snapped Song Sliced, . 

124 

X 

Ginger Snaps and Wine, 

143 

XI 

Three Offers Snapped up — The gist of 



Ginger Snaps, 

172 

XII 

The Efficacy of Snap, . 

178 










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. ■ 
















































t 





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V 












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"'TO- Y 







PREFACE. 


^ Chic belongs to France, America owns “ Snap.” None but a French- 
man properly appreciates the word “Chic;” only an American can say 
u Snap” with a knowing relish. 

A business man is commenting with another about a mutual friend. 
“He’s a wonderfully successful fellow,” says the first. “Yes, and. no 
wonder,” says the second, “he’s full of ‘snap.’” 

A street Arab encounters a younger chum packed snugly in a dry 
goods box, in close fellowship with a dime novel and the consumptive 
stump of a cigar. “Halloa! kid,” he cries, “struck a ‘snap?’” 

A broker manipulates stocks successfully, and obtains a “ snap.” 

From these few examples, we ascertain that a progressive spirit 
of energy and push may be developed in certain persons, until they 
acquire such a state of success as to warrant one in saying, “they have 
‘snap.’” Vide, mutual friend. 

Then again, persons may be placed in certain agreeable situations, 
feeling felicitous and nonchalant ; when thus happily placed they are 
enjoying a “ snap.” This is agreeable to high and low. Vide, Arab 
and cigar. 

Still again, men may control circumstances in such a manner that 
without further exertion they can reap continuous benefits. This is 
eminently a thing of chance, and devoutly to be desired. Vide specu- 
lator in stocks, or the heir to a dukedom. 

Once more, there are persons, some superannuated, and others not. 


8 


Preface. 


who cash checks, and gain a livelihood without any return in labor or 
capital. This is chiefly confined to dignities and old age. Vide our 
legislators and emeritus professors. 

There are other cases of “ Snap;” yes, very many more. A fat man 
standing on a pine plank, which spans a bog, may be suddenly sunk to 
his white cravat in muddy water, slime and tadpoles, and all this on 
account of the “snap” of the board. 

The crack of the driver’s whip is, nevertheless, its “ snap.” A bull 
dog has the true gist of this versatile Americanism, when he eyes the 
sad-faced tramp, and the latter trembles visibly, and looks even sadder 
at his “ snap.” 

A virago “ snaps;” a cross-eyed child is “snappish;” and there is a 
species of the turtle, whose vice consists in forming a vise 01 its jaws — 
such is the “ snapper.’* A fresh ham purloined from a butcher’s stall, 
becomes a case of “snap;” and who has not eaten a kind termed 
ginger? . 

Thus we see that “snap” is all-comprehensive and ubiquitous. 
There are “ snaps ” agreeable, and just as many disagreeable “ snaps.** 
A mad dog “ snap,” and a $10,000 one, though equally pungent, yet 
differ materially. 

There may be a “ snap” of cold weather. 

Is there a human being in America ignorant of the various phases 
of this great* staple word ? It plays a prominent part in the business 
man’s vocabulary. The signal service telegraphs it. It is the most ex- 
pressive word in the boot-black’s phraseology. 

There is, and always has been, a distinctive characteristic of every 
country, every age. It may be a golden age, a silver, copper, or an 


Preface. 


9 


iron one. It may be a martial, a licentious, or a literary age. Ages may 
be fast, and yet slow; inventive or reproductive. Politically, ages 
may be variously inclined ; religiously, they are orthodox or heterodox, 
fanatical or sceptical. Yet, whatever they be, their aim or tendency is 
always known as “the spirit of the age.” 

We have mentioned, as one of the possible translations of “ snap,” 
a human quality composed of intelligent energy and tact, the almost 
infallible guides to success. 

What is the American “ spirit of the age ” ? How is the nineteenth 
century peculiarized by us? Bend your ear, O Euphemist, and I 
will startle you. 

Our spirit of the age is — S nap. 























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CHAPTER I. 


(Snip, Snap, Snorum .) — snip. 


“You see, Sans, my conscience is actually goading 
me. I haven’t been home since Christmas, and I am 
just dying to see the Colonel and Ray. Come along 
with me, won’t you ?” 

“ Say, Dick, who is this Sin you are talking about?” 

“ Haven’t I told you ? Well, he’s the oddest amal- 
gamation I ever encountered. You know after I left 
home, and Ray had started for school, the Colonel 
had no one to help him in conversation. I told you 
about his funny habit of asking for synonyms. Well, 
after we had gone, he was left in a most perplexing 
state. He would stick for words, stutter, stop, and 
then swear. He informed me last Christmas, 

‘“You see, Dick, I would, ah — would, ah, confound 
it! stal’d, you know; not stal’d, either, but, ah — ah — * 

“ ‘ Halt ?’ I suggested. 

“ ‘ Yes, halt, that will do. Well, I would halt.’ 

“ So he got tired of halting, and at last hired a boy 


12 


Snap. 


in the village. He found his helpmate in a curious 
way too. He was out walking one afternoon, and as 
he has, by no means, the premium pair of optics in 
use, he dived down a ditch. He couldn’t move, he 
told me, for the mud and briars, and he lay there a 
full hour, venting his disgust in disconnected vows of 
vengeance, until he heard footsteps, stepping to the 
tune of a whistled jig, coming along the side of the 
ditch. 

“ The Colonel howled, and the jig stopped. 

“ Said the Colonel, 

“ ‘ Hey, there, boy ! Lend me some, ah, ah — what 
do you call it, you know; something like circum- 
stance. Do you hear !’ 

“ ‘ Give you a lift, you mean, don’t you ?’ said the 
boy. 

“ ‘ Yes, that will do. But I didn’t mean it. Ah — 
assistance is the word. Now give me a lift.’ 

“ So the boy hauled the poor Colonel out, and was 
given a nickel for his trouble. Then he was exhaus- 
tively quizzed as to his pursuits, inclinations, and de- 
viations, and as he good naturedly helped the Colonel 
along in his conversation, and conducted his own share 
satisfactorily, he so tickled father that he engaged him 
instanter to work at ‘Willows.’ When the boyar- 
rived, he was surprised at being ushered into the 


13 


Snap . 


library, and solemnly seated in a great straight-back 
chair. The Colonel gravely presented him a * Worces- 
ter,’ almost as tall as himself, and bade him commence 
operations. The poor boy must have been dumb- 
founded. 

“ However, as his parents were poor, he was soon 
established in the house, given to understand that he 
was henceforth to be an automaton, and I believe he 
succeeded exceedingly in pleasing the Colonel. What 
are you laughing at, Sans ? ” 

“ Ha, ha, ha! Can’t help it, Dick. The idea. Ha, 
ha, ha ! Why the whole thing is perfectly ridiculous, 
And you too. How comes it you call your father, 
Colonel ?” 

“ Laughing at that, are you ? Why every one has 
called him Colonel since the war, you know, and it 
seems to please him more than any other title, so I 
began it ; and I actually believe he would prefer Ray 
to address him that way too.” 

“ Why say, Dick, your father must be simply ex- 
cruciating, isn’t he ? ” 

“ Well if I wasn’t his son, I could laugh all day at 
him. I fear I do anyhow. I wish you would go to 
‘Willows’ with me.” 

“ I would be delighted to go, Dick, but just now I 
am in a most miserable quandary. After I had de- 


14 


Snap . 


cided to leave New York, you know, I wrote to an 
old chum, who had left college the summer before you 
came. He’s pitched in a small town up in the State, 
and has written me to visit him and survey the place, 
as he thinks I may wish to lodge there. He hasn’t 
answered my last letter as yet, and you see I can’t 
leave until he does. Miserably hot, too, isn’t it ? ” 

“Very. But see here, Sans, if you don’t go to this 
what’s-his-name’s place, you will come and see me, 
won’t you ? ” 

“ Well, I’ll see. I might go home, yet. I’ll let you 
know, anyhow.” 

“ All right, I must leave you. I start in several 
hours for Stanton. Good-bye ! ” 

“Good-bye!” 

Hands were shaken, and the door closed on him 
called Dick. 

Here the last speaker, left alone, walked slowly to 
the window, and gazed abstractedly on the dust and 
busy life below him. Suddenly he started for the door. 

“What did he say? 'Stanton?’ Must have been 
‘Tanton,’ or ‘Scranton,’ or something like that. 
Helloa, Dick! Dick!! Well, it makes but little dif- 
ference. 

“ I would like to see Dick’s home, I must say. He 
didn’t say Stanton ? ” 


CHAPTER II. 


A CLERICAL SNAP. 


Rev Thomas Shadrick was a most estimable, learned, 
but — mirabile dictu ! — very vain- worthy. No one can 
wonder that he grew vain in his quiet, uneventful 
employment, when the many snares which are artfully 
laid by the evil one to trap natures purely receptive, 
are considered ; and every one will regard it as a still 
more natural consequence, when they are made aware 
of the character of this rural divine. 

When he left the theological seminary, and entered 
upon the active duties of his country pastorate, he ar- 
rived at Stanton, the seat of his charge, thoroughly 
saturated with theories, dogmas and theology. His 
first sermons breathed fiery indignation and confusion 
against rationalism, pantheism and atheism. He vented 
his wrath in scorching flames of eloquence against 
Mohammedanism, Buddhism and Mormonism; and 
soon decreasing the radius of his critical observation^ 
he became sarcastic and accusative against certain 
branches of the Christian religion. 


i6 


Snap. 


Catholicism formed the topic of a series of denun- 
ciatory sermons ; Methodism fared alike ; the Baptis- 
tical, Lutheran, Unitarian and Episcopal faiths were 
successively attacked, until, at the close of his first 
year’s incumbency, he had lessened and lessened his 
focus, till it culminated at the very acme, as he re- 
marked, of religious beliefs — Presbyterianism. And 
he closed this grand review amid the applauding ad- 
miration and wonder of his devoted flock. 

The Stanton “ Weekly” published these sermons 
in full, and the editor remarked, that “ Mr. Shadrick’s 
lucid and unbiased review stamped him, not only as 
a gentleman of great learning and extensive observa- 
tion, but also, as one who labored earnestly and con- 
scientiously to overthrow the present fallacious sys- 
tems of religion, and construct upon their ruins the 
truest form of the only true faith, — Presbyterianism ” 

At the next meeting of the Presbytery, this budding 
divine was heartily complimented by his fellow clergy- 
men, and cheered on in his good work. He was fold 
that he was pursuing the correct path towards future 
success, here and hereafter, and would some day be a 
shining star. 

An item in one of the church papers informed those 
interested that : 

“ The Rev. Thos. Shadrick was laboring earnestly 


Snap. 


1 7 


and successfully in his first field, and that the town of 
Stanton was already bearing fruits of his reforming 
influence.” 

At first, frank, artless and confiding, he soon be- 
came the prey of that insinuating and ever successful 
enemy to candid humanity — flattery ; and our disciple, 
green from the monastic confinement of a dull, uni- 
form seminary life, with his brain nigh splitting with 
theologies and philosophies, tenets and dogmas, began 
to taste the incipient joys of fellow applause. 

At first, he received the frequent compliments of his 
church members as the natural result of friendship ; 
but soon he reasoned that this must be the homage 
paid by man to superior man ; by comparative ignor- 
ance to intelligence. Thus growing gradually frog- 
gish in his inflation, his deportment began insensibly 
to assume the pompous. He spoke to the members of 
his flock in an unconsciously condescending tone ; he 
addressed the elders in an authoritative manner ; and 
Judge Skinner was requested by him to increase his at- 
tendance at the weekly prayer meetings. All this was 
patiently borne by his now idolizing congregation, and 
they, in turn, gradually began to assume an arrogant 
aspect toward the members of the Methodist and Bap- 
tist churches, the only other religious denominations 
in Stanton. 


i8 


Snap. 


Soon our young disciple became the town oracle. 
He organized a literary association, called the “Stan- 
ton Lyceum,” composed of the best youthful material 
in that place, Judge Skinner, the five lawyers, and the 
four doctors, and Mr. Ernest, the popular proprietor 
of the % “ Stanton Academy.” These were the actual 
participants in the exercises, but naturally the young 
men were magnets, and drew there the flower of the 
female inhabitants. These meetings became the grand 
attraction in Stanton, and Friday evening grew to be 
the cynosure of the week. The Rev. Thos. Shadrick 
was president of the association, as a matter of course, 
as no one else would have dared to occupy that exalted 
position, he being present. Judge Skinner, with all his 
law, was less a parliamentarian, so all the town de- 
clared. His decisions were marvels of justice and 
perspicuity. He would have been a glory to the 
bar, the young lawyers said, and whenever he made an 
assertion, his humbled flock accepted it as uncondh 
tionally as was the Pythagorean “ ipse dixit.” It was 
charming to witness him listening with dignity and 
benignity to the debates, occasionally venturing some 
correction. The young girls hung on his words, and 
committed them ; whilst to be a member of his Bible 
class was considered the very Ultima Thule of promo- 
tion ; and, although he had seen but thirty summers. 


Snap. 


19 


still he carried more weight than the Judge, whose 
life ran over sixty years. So glided pleasantly away 
into the past, the first two years of his Stanton pas- 
torate. 

During this time he had held eight communions, 
and so popular was he, that over one hundred and 
twenty-five new members were enrolled on the 
church’s' books, of whom eighty ranged between the 
ages of eight and eighteen. 

Mr. Shadrick displayed great talent, it was said at 
Presbytery when the Stanton report was read, in draw- 
ing into the bosom of the church so many young 
people. 

Judge Skinner, who objected to this increase of the 
church’s member roll, said, “ it did no good, that they 
were only ciphers ; and that it was as bad a practice as 
the Methodists’ anxious bench, against which the pas- 
tor had preached such a good sermon.” 

The pastor hearing of the Judge’s discontent, se- 
verely chid him for his views, and conclusively proved 
that youth should act as no hindrance, but rather as 
an inducement to joining the church. The Judge was 
silenced for the time being, but he afterwards remarked 
to a fellow elder that, “ this thing of drawin’ in the 
young folk, by appealin’ to ’em personally, and then 
gettin’ a big crowd to club together, and sign the 


20 


Snap. 


Westminster Confession before they can read it, didn’t 
do ’em a bit of good.” 

During the winter of his second year, the divine sig- 
nified to his flock, that certain alterations and improve- 
ments in the appearance of the church would be any- 
thing but amiss. So fairs were held to obtain money 
for frescoing the interior, and suppers for re-plastering 
the exterior. 

The “Weekly” said, “the pastor displayed great 
diligence and energy in the collection of funds suffi- 
cient for the renovation of the now time-worn edifice.” 

Members were individually appealed to, tea-parties 
and pound-parties were held, dialogues and concerts 
were given, and every available effort made in order to 
fill the coffers of the church. 

Against these most praiseworthy exertions, the 
Judge, who was daily becoming more and more of a 
religious grumbler, was constantly alluding in the 
most uncharitable manner. 

“ That church,” he said, “ was good enough for this 
congregation’s parents, and it ought to do us. If the 
church has got to be repaired, don’t let’s go about get- 
tin’ the money in the same way the disciples of the 
devil get theirs.” 

Notwithstanding the good Judge’s indignant pro- 
tests, “ Stanton Memorial Presbyterian Church ” was 


Snap. 


21 


entirely refitted and remodernized; and even the 
aging dispenser of justice was forced to admit it was 
a “ good job." 


j 




I 


CHAPTER III. 


A SNAPPED SONG. 


Thus tranquilly did the Rev. Thomas Shadrick float 
down the stream of his rustic life. Every one knows 
what a town, buried in a froth of blossoms, flowers 
and fruits, perfumed with summer’s essences, and brim- 
ming with the chatter and song of winter-hating birds, 
is. Why, it is a heaven ; and so was Stanton. 

With a surfeit of leisure at his command, and the 
most beautiful and smiling of prospects, in which to 
praise God, spread in enchanting view around him, it 
is no wonder that the divine grew idle and mopish ; 
now and then wandering listlessly along the vegeta- 
ting banks of the clear willowy creek, bearing the 
name of the town. 

It was now the summer of his third year at Stan- 
ton, and it would seem that humanity could scarcely 
hide itself in a more lovely retreat. The business man, 
daily growing more and more a misanthrope under the 
scorching sun and choking dust of the city, would 
have sunk with pleased smiles on the dandelion bank 


Snap . 


23 


of Stanton creek, and hailed the sweet puffs of flow- 
ery air, cooled by the water, with a weary sense of de- 
light. The student would have forgotten his thirst for 
knowledge, by quenching it with an icy glass from the 
little, secret spring by the banks of this same creek. 
The city clergyman would have beamed to attend a 
rustic pic-nic in the bristling woods, which skirted the 
south side of the town; and the weary pedestrian, 
strolling through the shady main street, in the early 
morning of a June day, could by little stretch of im- 
agination, be allured into drowsy nonchalance by the 
seductive chattering of the feathered sirens. 

Stanton was the very ideal of inactive, noiseless, in- 
terior towns, and its population was but little inter- 
ested in outside follies. The houses were chiefly 
weatherboard, here and there a pile of stone or brick 
buried in trees and ivy, telling the tramp of greater 
affluence. One stone and two brick churches formed 
the religious quota to Stanton's architecture ; whilst a 
large, ungainly court-house, built of undressed sand- 
stone, gave warning to the self-same tramp, that he 
stood in the presence of justice, and in the county 
town. 

With all its quiet unobtrusiveness, Stanton had still 
its social lines, not drawn very taut, it is true, yet suf- 
ficiently so to trip up any chance intruder. Those 


24 


Snap. 


members of the elite to whom we shall have occasion 
to hereafter refer, were the Rev. Thomas Shadrick, 
Judge Skinner and family, a bevy of five lawyers, a 
covey of four doctors, Mr. Ernest, the proprietor of 
“ Stanton Academy,” and a Colonel Stanton and fam- 
ily. With these we shall have principally to deal, but 
besides this group, there were several others of a less 
interesting nature; as, Mr. Lawrence, the editor of 
the “ Weekly,” and Revs. Bump and Croup, the pas- 
tors of the Methodist and Baptist churches, respec- 
tively. 

Judge Skinner was a legal oddity, an elder, a mem- 
ber of the Board of Trustees, and the Superintendent 
of the Sabbath School ; thus being second only to the 
pastor of the Memorial Presbyterian Church. A firm 
believer in the institutions of his forefathers, and 
ever suspicious of the insinuating policy of inno- 
vation, he lived and acted a skeptic in the improving 
spirit of the age. “ Bread and butter,” he was wont 
to say, “ means more than politics and railroads.” 

His gentle-eyed, patient wife, who made a fast friend 
of every chance acquaintance, limited her ideas to her 
own microcosm — her home. Their daughter, Eva, was 
the very likeness of her gentle mother, with the rosy 
benefit of youth. Calm blue eyes, peering timidly 
under a canopy of long, silken lashes ; a short, but 


Snap . 


25 


regular nose, giving way to the sweetest of laughing 
lips, guarded by white flashing teeth. Surely she was 
pretty, and the idol of this cross, old judge’s home. 

Harry, who was just entering his eighteenth year, 
was a “ handsome boy enough,” as the Judge practi- 
cally remarked, and seemed to be most proud when 
protectingly escorting his fair young sister (however 
not so young, they being twins), to the little, brick 
building, known as the “Stanton Academy.” 

The five young lawyers lived, and so did the three 
young doctors, for the fourth was no longer young 
and unstable, but quite old and established. This 
mass of law and medicine existed, and that is the best 
praise we can bestow upon their persistent, and laud- 
able (?) perseverance. How they existed, was a ques- 
tion of genuine speculation to the peaceable and 
healthy inhabitants of Stanton. But as Stanton was 
the county town, and these youthful professionals con- 
stantly scoured the landscape in quest of game, their 
efforts were presumed to have been proportionally 
successful to their assiduity in stirring broils and 
epidemics. 

By a most singular coincidence of name and des- 
tiny, these lawyers gloried in the singular appellations 
of esquires John Caveat, Henry Alimony, James 
Bail, Edward Assumpsit, and Reuben Lien, forming, 


26 


Snap. 


with their initial letters, a second Cabal ; whilst the 
doctors, Charles Gastric, Thomas Abrasion, Frank 
Ligament, and the aging Dr. Lecrom formed the 
suggestive and curious word gall , by a similar ar- 
rangement of letters. Whatever translation this may 
hap to induce, it in no way affected the last named 
M. D., who was everywhere regarded as a model of 
retiring simplicity and old-fashioned common sense. 

The skeptical reader may refuse credence to this 
odd combination of names. If he does, we simply 
suggest the evident impropriety of divulging all we 
know, and remind him that many truths are often 
taught by allegory. 

Col. Stanton was the descendant of the town’s 
founder, and regarded by its inhabitants as their hero 
and aristocrat. It was said he had seen service, 
hard service, in the rebellion ; and these few years of 
bloody experience had chiselled rough lines in his 
handsome visage, giving him a certain sternness of 
aspect calculated to balk the familiar stranger. The 
death of his wife, it was further said, had chiefly in- 
duced the Colonel to assume the risks of war, and, 
since his return, to shun the town’s society : so it was 
from this quarter alone that the Rev. Thomas Shad- 
rick had met with but partial success. 

“ Willows,” the apropos name of the Colonel’s res- 


Snap . 


27 


idence, stood on rising ground a few furlongs from 
the town proper. Constructed of a soft, grayish stone, 
with rough granite facing, the observer standing at the 
base of the hill, which means the banks of the creek, 
could almost fancy he reviewed some Grecian temple, 
embedded in a grove of olive trees. The Colonel had 
a pardonable weakness for porticoes, and, as a conse- 
quence the mansion was shelved with them. 

Here he could be seen in the summer twilight, re- 
clining in an easy chair, looking fondly at his loved 
and lovely daughter, swinging and singing softly in a 
hammock. Often did the Rev. Thomas Shadrick 
walk cautiously along the green banks of Stanton 
creek, and shading himself in the mellow darkness of 
a willow, look wistfully up at the ivy-boxed portico, 
where two dim forms reclined, wrapt in sunset gold. 

“ They say ,” he would mutter aloud, “ that the Colonel 
has been a perfect recluse since his wife died, and is be- 
coming a pagan, and worshipping an idol, though she’s 
certainly a different one from a Buddhist’s Gautama.” 

“ Won’t come and hear me even,” he would con- 
tinue. “ I remember saying I intended to preach on 
the Trinity next Sunday, and would be delighted to 
have him and his daughter present. Confound my 
stupidity ! Why didn’t I make them seek my society 
first ? I never solicited audiences before.” 


2 8 


Snap. 


Then he would glance again at the great gray house, 
growing vague with the night, and hear the merry 
laughter of its fairy inhabitant, duetted by the Colo- 
nel’s hearty roar, but it only made him uneasy, and 
discontented, and he would almost draw a sigh of re- 
lief, when the ex-soldier rising would help his idol 
from her seat, and stroll slowly in. 

Ray Stanton, the object of the Colonel’s pagan- 
ism, had spent her later years at boarding-school, but 
that etcentric devotee, with his only son snug in col- 
lege, grew weary of so absolute an hermit’s life, and 
had brought her lately home to “ Willows,” install- 
ing Mr. Alfred Ernest, proprietor of the Stanton 
Academy, over her as mentor and tutor. 

This Ernest had arrived in Stanton suddenly, and 
solemnly, but a few years previous, and since then 
had been the primum mobile which moulded the youth 
of that place in classical lore. 

Sedate, and courteous, he had won the good will of 
all Stanton, and his perfectly smooth face, regular fea- 
tures, and thoughtful gray eyes, giving him the ap- 
pearance of a clergyman, had placed Mr. Shadrick in 
great danger of losing ground, by a comparison of 
this nature with him. His natural reticence, however, 
seemed to prevent a close acquaintanceship with any 
one, and it was very seldom he engaged in an argu- 


Snap . 


29 


ment, even at the Lyceum, of which he was a luke- 
warm member. 

The Colonel had called upon this youthful peda- 
gogue, for he had yet to pass his third decade, and 
after repeated importunities, persuaded him to under- 
take the smoothing and rounding off of his daughter’s 
education. Strange to say, Ernest had positively re- 
fused every offer of compensation, telling the Colonel 
that the benefit of “ Willows ” society would amply 
repay him. 

Here then he had been installed for the last year, 
much to Dick Stanton’s surprise, when he reached 
home from college, during the Christmas holidays, and 
was informed of this educational arrangement.. 

The Colonel, who experienced great difficulty in 
giving expression to his ideas, was always in company 
with a thin, sharp-eyed lad, who acted the part of a 
prompter, and seemed devotedly fearful of the hand- 
somely eccentric soldier. This fact and many others, 
afforded the scholar silent entertainment, while his in- 
structive intercourse with Miss Ray, though not al- 
ways of an educational nature, seemed, of late, to be 
gradually working or thawing a livelier air in the 
tenor of his scholarly deportment. 

And so it came to pass, that every day, when the 
Academy had been dismissed, and he was left free from 


30 


Snap. 


duties there, he would seize a few books, and taking 
his cane in hand, walk slowly down the main street, 
cross the rustic bridge at the edge of the town, and 
saunter along the moist banks of Stanton Creek, 
until he reached the wicket-gate which guarded the 
avenue to the Colonel’s little domain. Then he would 
suddenly adjust his hat and clothing, pull down his 
cuffs until their whiteness rimmed the darkness of his 
black coat, and measuring his steps with a classical 
regularity, walk in metre to the front door. 

Once inside, he seemed to leave all diffidence in the 
hall with his cane. The feeling of the town academy 
came over him, and he grew self-possessed, cautious, 
and authoritative in his own sphere. But when the 
sweet, vivacious Ray, growing interested in her in- 
struction, would draw closer to the bachelor book- 
worm, and look wonderingly into his gray eyes, a 
slight wave of red confusion would sweep over his 
face, and a tinge of sternness wrinkle itself in his brow. 
Thus it was at first, but each month seemed to lessen 
the scholar’s reticence. He laughed with Ray at the 
Colonel’s oddities, and spent more time at Judge Skin- 
ner’s residence than was absolutely necessary to settle 
his few and trivial matters of business. But then Miss 
Ray was a mere child, only seventeen, and Eva Skin- 
ner, one of the twins, Harry being the male represen- 


Snap. 


31 


tative, was only eighteen. However, Ernest was cer- 
tainly becoming a more social being — why, it would 
probably be difficult to understand. 

The time for the annual breaking up of the Academy 
had now arrived, and Stanton never appeared so en- 
ticing. The sirens were singing sweeter than usual in 
the main street, the creek made merrier music over 
the pebbly shallows, and the pedagogue felt more at 
rest, and blissfully content than at any previous mo- 
ment in life. He almost felt sorry to break the school, 
and the charity in his soul vented its ebullition in 
gushing strains from a well-trained baritone voice, as 
he followed the creek, this latter day in June, home- 
ward bound from “ Willows.” Warming in his song, 
he was diligently climbing his register, almost obliv- 
ious of everything external, when a surprised voice 
awoke him to a full consciousness of his life in the 
flesh, by saying : 

“ Good afternoon, Mr. Ernest” 


CHAPTER IV. 


A SCHOLAR SNAPPISH. 


The scholar became the very embodiment of a blush, 
as he glanced hastily around, and met the smiling coun- 
tenance of the Rev. Thomas Shadr^k. Interpreting 
this smile as one of criticism at his boyish freak of 
singing to himself, he hurriedly returned the divine’s 
greeting in a semi-apologetic tone. 

" Good afternoon, Mr. Shadrick. The weather is 
so very delightful, and the spirit of this scenery so 
contagious, that I was captured by its secret influence, 
before my sense of decorum could intervene. It is 
not a common thing for me to do, I assure you, this 
communing aloud to myself.” 

“ You are performing a most unnecessary act,” 
laughed the divine ; “ for it is I, who should alone feel 
chagrined at the sparsity of your audience, and it is 
evident rudeness in interrupting the exercises. But,” 
he added, gaily, “ what it lacked in numbers, it certain- 
ly completed in appreciation.” 


Snap. 


33 


The scholar evidently accepted these words, and 
their gay delivery, as indicative of sarcasm, so he an- 
swered warmly, with a tell-tale flush. 

“ I always presumed, that when anyone engaged in 
a harmless action, meant only for his own amusement, 
that he became the only person interested in the act, 
and that the opinion of others, pro or con, was a 
matter of no consequence whatever.” 

“ Certainly, certainly,” replied the clergyman hastily, 
in no wise ruffled at these rude words ; “ and noth- 
ing astonishes me at all except your seeming disre- 
gard of the quality of your voice ; for, I assure you, 
your rendition of the ‘ Brook ’ afforded me not only 
true pleasure, but also astonishment. I was not aware 
Stanton entertained an angel in disguise,” he contin- 
ued smilingly, “ and shall commence a series of at- 
tacks on you, until I claim your presence in our choir.” 

“ I fear your kindly solicitation will prove fruitless,” 
answered he of the song, mollified when he perceived 
the misconstruction he had placed on the clergyman’s 
words, and ashamed of his own rude reply. “ But,” 
he added, desirous of changing the drift of their talk, 
“what magnet has drawn you here? And if influ- 
enced, like myself, by the tenor of the scene, how 
comes it, you failed to sing also ? ” 

“ Lack of talent, and a hesitancy to mar the quiet 


34 


Snap. 


of the view by my harsh practice,” said he of the 
cowl, evasively, coloring slightly as he caught a 
glimpse of the white house amid its cordon of wil- 
lows, and remembered his many late contemplations 
of the Colonel, and the object of his paganism. 

“ It would have probably saved nature a pang of 
pain, had I been influenced by the same delicate com- 
punctions.” said the scholar, the deepening sunset 
shading his companion’s face. 

“ But,” he pursued glancing back, with something 
of a sorrowful expression in his eyes ; “ this was the 
last day at the Academy, and I have just closed my 
instructions at “ Willows.” Richard arrived this morn- 
ing from New Y ork, and is as jolly as ever. They will 
make the house livelier than it has been for many 
years, I suppose, as Miss Ray informed me she ex- 
pects a friend here for the summer ; a boarding-school 
chum, I believe.” 

“ Ah ! ” said the other in a careless tone, “ well, it 
will hardly revolutionize my life here, as my acquaint- 
ance with the Stantons has been most limited indeed. 
I have, in fact, called but once, and found the Colonel 
little inclined to favor a repetition. He seems to take 
but little, if any, interest in church affairs, though his 
daughter attends occasionally.” 

This was said in an unmistakably miffed tone, and 


Snap . 


35 


the strangely sudden transition of petulancy from the 
scholar to the divine, became only the more evident as 
the former replied as if in defense. 

“ Well, you must bear in mind, Mr. Shadrick, that 
Colonel Stanton is very eccentric, and no longer 
young/' 

They had been walking slowly towards the rustic 
bridge, the dying day dampening the odors of the field, 
and sending showers of fragrance across their path. 
The creek, touched with the colors of the sunset, was 
flowing noiselessly by, and not a sound but their own 
voices disturbed the sleeping willows. Ernest was tell- 
ing the divine of the Colonel’s oddities, when suddenly 
he said : 

“ By the way, I invited Dick and his sister to at- 
tend the last meeting of the Lyceum to-morrow even- 
ing, and they promised to be there. Have you a good 
list of exercises ? ” 

“A most valuable accession, indeed,” said the clergy- 
man, flushed with pleasure, “ Yes, our list is toler- 
ably entertaining. Caveat and Gastric will discuss the 
relative merits of their respective professions, and we 
have quite a number of readings and recitations on 
hand, besides the Judge’s correspondence.” 

"A strong bill certainly, so I will tell them to come,” 
smiled Ernest, taking a letter from his pocket. “ Your 


36 


Snap. 


m entioning young Caveat’s name recalled to my mind 
a legal incident, or accident, in which I am constituted , 
the counsellor at law. Here is a letter from a young 
college friend of mine, named Edwin Hart. I always 
thought him the brightest fellow I had ever met, al- 
though he was only a sophomore then. We all called 
him ‘ Sans-Souci/ sometimes ‘ Sans * for short, as he 
was peculiar for his utter indifference as to the opinions 
of others. He always had some scheme on hand, and 
always had the energy to push it through, too. I had 
kept up a rambling correspondence with him, and 
after he had left college invited him to visit Stanton, 
and consider the idea of locating here; but he selected 
New York, and commenced the practice of law. So 
I had lost sight of Sans for nearly a year, until I re- 
ceived this letter, which seems to have left him in rather 
an unsettled state. Shall I read it?” 

“ Certainly,” said the divine, " if you can with this 
poor light.” 

*’ Oh, I can read it. Well, then, here is what he 
says : 

“New York, June 1 8, 187 . 

“ My Dear Ernest : — I am at sea, and my profes- 
sional bark is anchored in a hostile port. I launched 
my legal craft last year, hung the pendant ‘ Attorney 
at Law ’ from the yard-arm, took my station in the 


Snap. 


37 


pilot-box, and watched. But, woe is me! I have 
been watching ever since, stuck in a calm, breezeless, 
without even the experience of a trade-wind. Whether 
this is simply the result of ignorant steering, or the 
unfavorable attitude of the gods, I am uncertain ; but 
that I am at present 

‘ Alone, alone, all, all alone; 

Alone on a wide, wide sea,’ 

minus half my original cargo, and with a spirit in mu- 
tiny against law and New York, I am, alas ! most con- 
clusively aware. 

“ Methinks I hear the staid old chum we designated 
‘ Mentor,’ mutter ‘ Bosh ! crazy as of yore ; ’ but lis- 
ten a little longer my quondam adviser, and grow 
not weary in well doing, for I need once more the 
exercise of that mentorian faculty of yours, in the 
following dilemma. Shall I weather this calm, stick- 
ing it out, at the risk of sticking in the mud, following 
the advice of old Plutarch, to 

* Seize ! seize the helm f 

The raging ( ?) vessel guide,’ 

or steer to some less adverse harbor, standing the 
chance of stranding outside of Gotham ; in other 
words, to ‘ fold my tent like the Arab and silently 
steal away?’ 


38 


Snap. 


“ The facts are these, my serene dominie, and I pray 
you, follow my chart carefully and well. 

“When our class broke up, I leisurely made for 
home, was received by outstretched arms, hugged by 
my sister, and fed on milk. The old, rustic homestead 
soon assimilated me, and I became old in sluggish- 
ness, and rustic in manners. The lark chirped me into 
indifferent stupor, and made me forget my other larks 
at college ; the big, shady elm cooled my ambition \ 
the society of the bucolic maidens charmed and fasci- 
nated me ; and gradually this dolce far niente banished 
thoughts of all other orders of humanity on the green 
globe. So I went from bad to worse, cultivated the 
acquaintance of pic-nics, lawn parties, and boating ex- 
cursions, was made a lion among the rural lambs, and 
roared to great advantage. 

“ Thus I intellectually withered until winter, when 
my dying brain began to vegetate again — a seeming 
paradox on reasons, but true, I assure you. The raw 
wind seemed to chide me ; the big elm grew less for- 
midable in its lotophic influence ; the lark had hur- 
riedly hastened to the antipodes to dull some other 
idiot’s brain who swung in a hammock ; the milkmaids 
kept shy of the snow , pic-nics were bundled up in 
old fashioned sleighs ; lawn parties had quietly slip 
ped to Florida for the winter; the boats, rusted ovei 


Snap. 


39 


with ice, were stowed cosily away in the barn ; and I, 
the roaring lion, soon dwindled to the bleating lamb, 
“ In ceteris vertis , I was aroused, resurrected, be- 
came conscious of the rapid growth of the epicure in 
me, and the consequent decrease of the stoic ; the ex- 
altation of the sluggard sloth, and the abasement of 
the man. My regenerated reason looked astound- 
edly into the faces of my abashed and wanton senses, 
and solemnly inquired * Cui bono ? ’ and the repentant 
quintette quietly hung their heads. 

“ So I left home in December, became a denizen of 
the metropolis, re-opened my pulverulent law books, 
studied, and was admitted to the bar. 

“ Well, I hear you say impatiently, ‘ what then ? * 
Nothing, my academical professor, nothing ; and this 
is precisely the incipiency of my discontent. 

“ * Ah ? ’ you grin, ‘ another Latinism verified, ex 
nihilo nihil fit! 

“ ‘ ’Tis true, ’tis pity,’ etc, but pray don’t chuckle, 
my more successful chum, for I am done with Gotham, 
and intend becoming a brief wanderer, seeking — well, 
a * snap.’ I am off, slipped anchor, filling the sails of 
my craft, by the presence of my own self-inflation. 

“ ‘ But,’ you frown , 4 why make me party to this un- 
interesting announcement ? If he wants to run the 


40 


Snap. 


» 

blockade of success, why compromise the serenity of 
a neutral by informing him of the attempt ?’ 

“ Hush, and listen, you ungrateful confidant You 
are interested m this information ; yes, more than in- 
terested, your future peace and happiness are most in- 
timately concerned ; for know you that I, Edwin Hart, 
irreverently called * Sans-Souci/ by a former band of 
classic brigands, do now wreak vengeance on the chief 
by daring him in his den. Yes, my now agitated dom- 
inie, I contemplate coming to Stanton. Your wary 
invitation, extended when there was but a meagre 
chance of acceptance, will now reap you a whirlwind. 

I scarcely feel jubilant over the existence of those 
‘ five young lawyers/ still, as my purse, though gal- 
lopingly consumptive, is not without its hectic flush, 
and as my craft, though legally constructed, may, 
by compulsion, be adapted for another use, with 
these considerations I may decide to face that 
monsoon. 

“ Now what I want of you, and what I should have 
asked way back in the first sentence, is simply a can- 
did answer to the following pointed query : If you were 
I, would you come to Stanton ? You know me, Ernest, 
and it is, therefore, that I ask you to put yourself in 
my place. Consider two points, if you please, suc- 
cess and happiness — these two, but the greater of 


Snap. 




these is happiness, though each involves the other to 
some extent. 

“ Ponder honestly, my elder, and answer fully and 
soon, for by your calm decision shall I alone abide. 

“ Yours in collegiate remembrance, 

“ SANS, 

" nee Edwin Hart.” 

“ Well,” said Shadrick, as the scholar’s voice shook 
off the pseudonym, “ well, what answer have you re- 
turned this, ah, Sang Froid, or Sans-Souci as you call 
him ? Shall we have him with us ?” 

“ Why, to tell the truth,” laughed the scholar, “ I 
have not replied as yet. The letter arrived a week 
ago, whilst I was away, and Nancy stowed it carelessly 
in a dusty cupboard, thinking to give it to me when I 
returned. I found it there this morning, by accident, 
hunting up some old examination papers. I carried 
it along with me to ‘ Willows,’ intending to ask the 
Colonel’s opinion, but it entirely escaped my mind. 
What do you think of it ?” 

“ Indeed, I hardly know what to think,” answered 
the clergyman, though certainly he looked as if he 
negatived the plan. “Undoubtedly the prospect of 
any addition to Stanton’s society, and especially of 
one just hailing from New York, would prove a most 


42 


Snap. 


irresistible claim upon the support and hospitality of 
its inhabitants.” 

“True,” said Ernest, laconically,” I will think it over.” 

They were now slowly pacing the main street, with 
its hedges of shady trees, in which the feathered in- 
habitants seemed placing the sweetest of music boxes. 
These two men, the scholar and the clergyman, began 
to think, and words of one syllable became alternately 
the order of their talk. The human instructor was 
wondering, the divine instructor was calculating. He 
of the birch was regarding the probable advent of this 
Edwin Hart, his former chum, with feelings of glad- 
ness ; he of the shepherd’s crook was regarding the 
same probability with feelings, well not of sadness, 
yet certainly of chagrin. To the one would he appear 
a friend and a participant; to the other, a possible 
rival or supplanter. So the world wags. 

The cosy cottage, called the Academy, was now 
abreast of these two cogitators. They paused at the 
gate ; recalled their senses ; shook hands ; the scholar 
lifted the iron latch ; turned to answer a parting query 
from the divine ; let the latch fall with a sharp click ; 
and — a recumbent figure, stretched on the leafy 
grass, stirred, gaped, looked up, saw the scholar, ut- 
tered a merry laugh, and when the clergyman had 
time to turn around at the sound of his friend’s hearty 


Snap . 


43 


cry of “ Sans !” he beheld a smooth-faced, wiry young 
man confounded in the grass-stained folds of a linen 
duster, vigorously wrenching the hand of his late 
companion. Like the spirit of the age, he hurried on, 
knowing that one who was an exponent of that spirit 
was present in Stanton. 

It was Sans-Souci. 


$ 

* 


CHAPTER V. 


[Snip, Snap , Snorum .) — snap. 


“ Ha, ha, ha, dead ! I dead ! Came to my funeral ! 
Ha, ha, ha!” 

“Well, you certainly take the information very 
coolly.” 

“ Dead ! You know you were asleep on the grass, 
aware I was alive, and waiting carelessly to break my 
hand when we met. Come, Sans, be veracious. 0 

“ Can’t, Ernest, just now. I am too voracious. Ve- 
racity and voracity are different names for honesty and 
gluttony, phlegm and choler, a sunbeam and an ava- 
lanche. So, you hermit, tell this nun Nancy of yours, 
— this aged one who maltreated my letter, to slay 
the fatted calf. Two of them, Ernest, please, if you 
are forced to descend to unscriptural chickens.” 

“Don’t sacrifice your love for the sake of appetite, 
you pagan. Nancy ! ” 

“Well, sir?” 

“ Murder half the hennery. This tramp, who has 
just arrived, is ravenous.” 


Snap. 


45 


“Yes, sir.” 

“ Stop ! Nancy, your master is a miser. He fasts 
when alone, to gorge before company. Kill only two 
pullets ; though, I fear, he will only leave me the ca- 
davers of both.” 

“ But, have you forgotten that ancient adage, which 
says : ‘ The epicure puts his purse in his stomach ? ’ ” 

“ Not at all, you unfortunate antiquary, but you 
have evidently shunned the very gist of that remark- 
able saying, which concludes thus: ‘And the miser 
puts his stomach in his purse.’ ” 

“ Enough, Sans ! You are still the same ; no change, 
unalloyed ” 

“ With any sense, as in college, you were going to 
say; you viper ; but I shall contradict your flattering 
opinion, by disclosing in my future conduct here, a 
mind too practical for frivolity, senses steeled against 
temptation, a heart unmoved by compassion, and a 
rigid stoicism of conduct in general, that will shame 
you into a retraction of this unjust estimate.” 

“Stop one minute, Sans,” said the scholar, more 
seriously. “You have come into a most singular 
place, and I had intended to send you an analysis of 
the average Stantonian’s inclinations and pursuits, in 
order to forewarn you of its peculiar mould. But as 
you are now here propria persona , let me simply say. 


46 


Snap. 


in answer to your inquiry, that prospects of success 
here will, in my opinion, greatly depend on your re- 
spectful submission to the habits and manners of this 
town, no matter how old fashioned and eccentric they 
may appear to you. Don’t try to scheme here, or in- 
troduce new things.” 

“ Bosh ! ” laughed Hart. “ Why, Ernest, don’t you 
know I am a pioneer, a missionary ? F act, you classic 
fossil ; and the aim of all my philanthropy shall be the 
civilization of Stanton. Seriously, my dear fellow, this 
place must be in a most lamentable state. You con- 
fess yourself that you, Alfred Ernest, have become ab- 
sorbed in this retrograding quicksand. What then is 
my duty ? A most clear one, I am sure, to clear minds. 
I should clarify this mixed condition of things. I 
should propose the membership of Stanton in the 
league of advancing thought, from which she evi- 
dently seceded way back in her primal history. I 
should inform her that this is the nineteenth century, 
and not the dark ages. I should speakopenly and fear- 
lessly of electric lights, telephones, and phonographs, 
of ocean cables, railroads and screw steamers. I should 
dissipate this cloud of sacred 4 habits and manners,’ by 
an apocalypse of the national emblem of excelsior; 
should reclaim an old chum from the bondage of con- 
tagion ; should ” 


Snap. 


47 


“ Silence ! ” cried the laughing scholar. “ Why you 
impassioned egotist, all this is trash, error and treason. 
Stanton is a physical Eden, a moral paradise, and an 
intellectual asylum. Gravely speaking, Sans, there is 
no need of reformation here. Mr. Shadrick — I spoke 
of him to you — introduced some innovations, trivial 
indeed, still sufficient to be condemned by some. I 
tell you these people, though quiet and secluded, are 
happy, and desire no interference. Telephones and 
phonographs would be no blessing to them, but merely 
useless addenda. I might instruct you, Sans, to read 
Dante’s words, 

‘Alas ! ye in whom a fervor now acute, 

Doth haply compensate for old delay.’ 

“Yes, my advice is undeviating conformity to Stan- 
ton’s habits and manners. Banish your advancing 
ideas back to New York, and be only active in an hon- 
est endeavor to build and establish, not to unseat and 
introduce. This is not the place for a social experiment, 
but rather for the quiet, earnest enjoyment of life. 

“ The people here desire life, but not of the New 
York quality. The one is satisfied with a steady 
breeze, the other would wither and die without gales 
and hurricanes. You remember Solon’s definition of 
wisdom, that it ‘ provides things necessary, not super- 
fluous.’ We obtain heaven’s breath sweet and pure, 


48 


Snap . 


it reaches you defloured and impure. This is simply 
one advantage we have over you. Why then attempt 
to introduce here some of your advantages, so called, 
when you yourselves become objects of pity to us ? 
Why, Sans, it is a burlesque, a mistake, a blunder, 
a ” 

“ Keep cool, my rustic Mirabeau,” smilingly inter- 
rupted Sans-Souci. “ What you have said is certainly 
sensible. You are only wrong in supposing me op- 
posed to these remarks. Stanton is most truly love- 
lier in summer than New York, but 4 many things by 
season seasoned are,’ and New York is assuredly love- 
lier than Stanton in winter. This place, as you say, 
may be physically Edenic, morally paradisaic, and in- 
tellectually an asylum, and yet, I claim, you are felic- 
itously incomplete. 

“Where is the void, you ask? Nothing more easy 
# of explanation, and I can tell it to you in a nut-shell. 
Stanton is stagnant. Let me act the orator for a mo- 
ment. 

“ Look around you. See the flush of the national 
fever on every village, town, and city ; not intermit- 
tent, but a furious typhus. The West shaming its 
mother East. Invention and discovery are cannons 
shooting out progress at every belch. The waves of 
improvement are washing every shore ; but you, mis- 


Snap. 


49 


erable parody on Holland, foolishly construct dikes to 
stem its beneficent surf. Navigation has opened to 
view the discovered map of the whole earth. Not a 
single island is hidden in the seas, save the mystic 
ones freezing under the shadow of the poles. America 
is wide-awake, untranced a century ago ; and still you 
are rubbing your eyes. ‘ But,’ you lazily cry, ‘we are 
happy, contented, and desire nothing, especially inter- 
ference.’ Why, Ernest, that is the old cry of the drone, 
the voluptuous Turk, or the heathen Chinee. This is 
America, and remember that the West represents the 
quintessence of the Orient ; that Europe commences 
where Asia ends ; and America lays her corner-stone 
on the dome of Europe. Such is our natural, our 
geographical position among nations, and yet you 
wish to defy this fiat. Why, my placid chum, forgive 
me the figures, but you are a wart, an anomalous ex- 
crescence on the body politic. You do not pain or 
cause serious inconvenience, but you disfigure, and 
elicit unpleasant notice. Your very neutrality, or 
passiveness, constitutes you an anomaly. You are a 
relic of the Revolution, and still lack the extenuating 
circumstances of a ‘Sleepy Hollow.’ You are neither 
a curiosity, nor a suitable companion for the present. 
You can offer us no apology, for you possess all the 
requisites of your more active neighbors. You started 

5 


Snap. 


W o 


with them, and were distanced merely by your own in- 
difference. And lastly, you have reached such a stage 
of complete inactivity as to become impotent. You 
began by being contented, then reticent, then churlish, 
and eventually became non compos mentis. Events 
pass by, and you are blind ; cries of progressive victory 
vibrate your atmosphere, and you are deaf. All men 
are not equally constituted, so some are leaders — the 
rest followers. All sections are not similar in their 
scope of action; so, some originate, and others execute. 
You do neither. 

“ Here you stand on a rusty, grass-covered turn- 
out, sleepily viewing the misty outline of our swift lo- 
comotive, the genius of the age, from which you de- 
tached yourselves when hardly coupled — that powerful 
engine, ‘ whose fire is kindled by the flaming few, but 
draws along the eager many ’ — and don’t you know, 
Ernest, that the hoi aristoi formed from are eventually 
the leaders of the hoi polloi? She demands from you 
no creation of the locomotive principle, simply follow 
in her train, adopt her many improving institutions, 
and she impels you, gratis. Don’t look cynically 
around, and laugh mulishly with Democritus, nor weep 
hypocritically with Heraclitus. Don’t — ” 

“ Mr. Ernest, tea is ready,” interrupted Nancy. 


Snap. 


51 


“ Well, don’t imagine this to be all nonsense then,” 
continued Sans-Souci. 

“ Tru*ly r Sans, I see but little argument in what you 
have said.” 

“ Out ! you stubborn hermit. Both you and Stanton 
need complete revision. Hereafter, regard me please 
as a missionary from the United States, your instruct- 
or, a superior being, come to introduce the nineteenth 
century. Some day I will tell you more about these 
States I represent, and give you an idea of their — ” 

‘‘Dinner, Mr. Ernest.” 

“ Coming, Nancy. Sans, you are too fast, and too 
sophistical. Have you forgotten your Latin? Ne 
sntor ultra crepidam ." 

“ Nay, my chum, but your contemptible adage is void 
if applied to me ; as I shall peg away at your half-sole 
existence to the last'.' 

“ Ha, ha, ha ! Stop, Sans, I succumb for the time be- 
ing, otherwise I would remark with the realist, ‘ what 
boots it ? ’ Don’t answer, but charge these chickens, 
before the effect of your warmth extinguishes theirs.” 

This was Edwin Hart, a true American represent- 
ative of this age. Energetic, rather brilliant, and 
full of thought, he yet retained that practical common 
sense so necessary to success in this busy day. His 
mother dying in his earlier years, he had lost the in- 


52 


Snap. 


calculable benefit of that pure, innocent training which 
sends a youth out on the waste sea of life, strong in 
faith. This Sans-Souci was smart as a boy, so his 
old father and loving young sister petted him, and 
insensibly he grew vain. College, that most effective 
rectifier of spirits, neutralized this dangerous symp- 
tom, and before long the youthful egotist became a 
most satisfactory and favorite chum. His collegiate 
life simply developed the peculiar traits of his life as 
a child. Constantly devising, scheming, and question- 
ing, he dug everywhere for truth. When but a boy, 
he once remarked, 

“ Papa, you said we have just freed the negroes, 
and liberated them from a disgraceful bondage. 
Wouldn’t it be nice if they would free the horses too, 
and use steam instead. I think it is as disgraceful to 
keep such grand, gentle animals in bondage.” And 
the father thought, while the child played. 

Once again he said at the tea-table, when the 
clergyman, the physician, and a few others were there, 
conversing about the miserable condition of the poor 
in the great cities, 

“ If all people are brothers and sisters, and some 
are rich and others poor, why don’t the rich ones di- 
vide with their poor brothers and sisters? You told 
me” (to his father) “ that all men have got the same 


Snap. 


53 


brains nearly, only some get education, and chance 
makes men greater than others. How does this 
money then make them forget each other ? Because 
gold and silver, you said, were only what men made 
them. And, yet, I read two pieces of poetry to-day 
about money, just unlike each other, 

‘ A light purse 
Is a heavy curse,’ 

and 

* Wise men with pity do behold 
Fools worship mules who carry gold.’ ” 

These problems he solved at a later period in life. 

As he grew in years, so he did intellectually, be- 
coming remarkably liberal in all his views ; perhaps 
censurably so. His short conversation with Ernest 
had satisfied the latter party that his quondam college 
chum was as aggressive to all form and ceremony as 
of yore. Indeed this had frequently led Sans-Souci into 
many serious embarrassments. 

Religiously he detested liturgies, and all arguments 
as to their propriety, beauty, or solemnity only in- 
creased his dislike. He would say, “ God is omnis- 
cient, and can easily perceive the difference between 
an honest intention to adore him, and a mere vulgar 
desire for display.” Puritanism and Methodism were 
equally faulty in his eyes. “ God made our flesh, so 
don’t mortify it. We are rational, and creatures of 

5 * 



54 


Snap . 


will, not brutes, so don’t appeal to our feelings, but to 
our reason, and common sense.” 

He thought his to be the general tendency of the 
religious sentiment of the day, holding that, “ the 
only difference between me and the greater lights, 
heterodoxically, is that, / 

‘Vessels large may venture more, 

But little boats must keep near shore.’ ” 


At college, an old professor gave Edwin a poem he 
had written, which tersely stated the old man’s re- 
ligious belief. 

Smiling at the vague manner of expression, which 
certainly could be criticised, Sans-Souci had yet 
praised its spirit greatly, and stored its contents in his 
mind. Here it is, as he repeated it afterwards to 
Ernest : 

“ By all that is, God must be, hence God is. 

By all indisputable facts extant 
Throughout the universe, from worlds to motes ; 

By all effects that must have had a cause 
Of logic means, from high, untaught design, 

’Tis evident God is, God wills, God knows, 

God diagrams, God demonstrates, God does. 

Infinite end of finite entities ; 

I am, identic of identities. 


Snap. 


55 


“ Man entic, compound as identity , 

Man extern, orient of eternity ; 

Man ultimate through mediate mother-hood ; 

All-potent fathered, may claim brother-hood 
With all immortals. Thus men keep their course 
From God through nature, and by innate force, 

Prove their affinity with God, their source. 

“ God lives in all who love humanity; 

Thinking for themselves, proving what they seem, 

And not assuming what they only dream.” 

Rather “ ultra,” he certainly was ; and yet, we 
think, no fool. 

In personal appearance, Sans-Souci was truly Amer- 
ican. His was rather an interesting, than handsome 
face. Full, broad forehead, blue eyes, a nose humor- 
ously escarped , a laughing mouth, guarded by a white 
regular fence of ivory, and the sum total set on a 
symmetrical trunk of about five feet ten inches. 

Such was Edwin Hart, verily an exponent of this 
age, this country’s snap 


CHAPTER VI. 

( Snip , Snap , Snorum .) — Snorum. 


“ Sans, I have a duty to perform this morning, which 
requires a stroll of about a half a mile. Will you go 
along?” 

“ Certainly. I want to see Stanton, anyhow. Say, 
Ernest, how is your town favored in a social point of 
view? Many blooded families, eh ? ” 

“ Don’t ridicule us, Sans No, we are but few. Let 
me see. Caveat, Alimony, Bail, Assumpsit and Lien, 
they’re the lawyers, you know ; Gastric, Abrasion, Lig- 
ament and Lecrom, they’re the doctors. Then, we 
have Judge Skinner and family; Mr. Shadrick ; Mr. 
Lawrence, the editor of our ‘ Weekly ’ ; the pastors of 
those other two churches, Bump and Croup ; the fam- 
ily we are going to visit this morning, the town’s cor^ 
relative ” 

“ Stantons ? Why, Ernest, that’s odd.” 

“ What’s odd about it ? ” 

“ Why, do you know, I was actually thinking about 
visiting a young friend of mine this summer, by that 


Snap. 


57 


name. He took quite an interest in the Sans-Souci 
Club, and when he graduated this term stopped over 
to see me, and almost persuaded me to go home with 
him. I intended to speak to him about this place, but 
hadn’t time.” 

“Ah! Well, as I was saying, the Colonel ” 

“ Colonel ! Is he a colonel ? Why, Dick’s father — ” 

“ Dick ! Probably your friend is the Colonel’s son ; 
• that is his name, anyhow.” 

“Strange, isn’t it? And do you know I feel almost 
confident his address was Stanton. At any rate, his 
father was a Colonel, and a very eccentric one, too.” 

“ Ah ! Did he ever mention any one by the name 
of Sin ? ” 

“ Yes, often. He has a sister too ” 

“ Called Ray ! ” 

“ Just it, precisely.” 

“ Did you ever hear him mention ‘ Willows? ’ ” 

“ Yes, indeed.” 

“ Ah ! they’re certainly the same ; if not, they’ve 
lost their identity. Well, let us walk on, and we’ll 
soon see.” 

“ Do you know, Ernest, I regard this as a very 
happy discovery, if true ; as I was particularly de- 
sirous of visiting Dick, and meeting the Colonel. 
Very eccentric, isn’t he ?” 


58 


Snap. 


“ Very.” 

“ Dick told me about this Sin. I never heard of 
anything so absurd. 

“You mean his lexicon duties. Yes. Still he is 
otherwise as eccentric. His natural voice is now a 
baritone; still he oscillates up and down the scale, 
with the queerest inflections. Sometimes his tone is 
gruff and military, and, like a flash, it suddenly as- 
sumes a tenor — almost shrill. One day last autumn, 
he came down to the breakfast table, looking stouter 
and more uncomfortable than usual. He ate the 
meal, strolled around for a time, and, finding the air 
rather raw, despatched this Sin for his light, fall over- 
coat. Sin soon returned, and said he couldn’t find it, 
so the Colonel started on the hunt himself ; but he, 
too, was unable to discover it. Then the whole house 
turned in, and began searching for the missing article. 
Still it couldn’t be found. By the time they had 
stopped looking for it, the sun had gotten the better of 
the damp air, and the Colonel decided that he could 
dispense with his great coat anyhow. That night, 
however, when he went to bed, he found he had put 
his night-gown and overcoat on, under his other 
clothing. Then he remembered that the evening 
before he had felt chilly, and garbed himself in those 
articles, forgetting to lay them aside in the morning.” 


Snap. 


59 


“ Oh, pshaw 

“True; and I remember Dick telling me that the 
Colonel once laid a book down on the porch, where he 
was sitting, and raised himself a little higher in the 
chair, for comfort. Dick saw him, and took the book 
stealthily away. The Colonel reached his hand down 
to take it up again, and it was gone. Dick says he 
looked dreadfully puzzled for a few seconds, glanced 
around, and then said, thoughtfully, ‘ Strange. I guess 
I forgot it.’ ” 

“Ha! ha! ha! Must have been deeply interested 
in the plot. But I should think his conversations with 
this Sin would be simply heart-rending.” 

“ Well, I don’t know. I’ve grown used to it myself, 
and so have Dick, and Miss Ray, I guess.” 

“ By the way, Ernest, you haven’t mentioned Miss 
Ray. Is she pretty ?” 

“ Yes, I think so. Didn’t Dick speak of her to 
you ?” 

“ Only slightly.” 

“ We will see her this morning, I suppose, and you 
can judge for yourself. I have been her tutor for 
some time past.” 

Sans-Souci glanced at his companion’s face, but it 
was smiling and calm. 

“ Not smitten ?” he said. 


6o 


Snap . 


“ Don’t be foolish, Sans. Of course not.” 

It was a glorious June morning, and certainly no- 
where more glorious than on the banks of Stanton 
creek. The cool air, trying to hide from the rising 
sun, gently played through the willows, and raised 
dimples on the face of the creek. The feathered 
sirens were gladly caroling in the morning, and £he 
sweet, fresh flowers of the field were holding up their 
morning offerings of dew to the sun. Ernest and 
Sans-Souci walked, and ruminated on the singular 
nature of their mutual acquaintance with Dick Stan- 
ton ; and certainly it was odd. Suddenly Ernest ex- 
claimed : 

“There, you can see ‘ Willows.”’ 

“ Looks cosy and rustic,” said Sans-Souci, viewing 
with interest the gray stone-dwelling, veiled round with 
willows; “ and is just the spot I would imagine Dick’s 
home.” 

Passing around the stretch of creek, they entered 
the wicket, and, climbing the rather steep ascent, 
soon stood on the ivy-curtained piazza. Pausing for a 
moment, they surveyed their late course. 

“ Beautiful ! ” exclaimed Sans-Souci. 

There lay Stanton, nestling in a valley, which, 
viewed from a great distance, might resemble a cradle. 
The grass coverlet was serenely green, and the little 


Snap . 


6 1 


bunch of houses made the head, whilst the creek crept 
on as the body. “ Willows ” was elevated on the east 
side, and on this June morning seemed perfumed with 
essence of rose. 

Ebony — by which name Dick Stanton had dubbed 
the faithful, old negress, who had become a fixed in- 
stitution — opened the door, and, in answer to Ernest’s 
usual query, informed him that the “folks was at 
brekfus .” 

“We will soon establish this identity,” said the 
scholar, when Ebony had left the room ; “ for I hear 
Dick’s voice now.” 

In a few minutes heavy footsteps came sounding 
along the hall, and the door opened with a push. 

“ Good morning, Ernest,” said a voice almost a 
tenor. “ We have just finished breaking our fast.” 
Then as if the owner of the voice suddenly perceived 
something startling, it added oddly, changing to a 
sonorous baritone, “ Ah, who have we here ? Come 
in Ray.” 

Ernest had risen hastily, and returned the (Colon- 
el’s) salutation, and now presented Sans-Souci, just as 
a second form entered the room, in answer to the 
Colonel’s bidding, with a surprised “ Good morning,” 
on her lips, for it was Ray Stanton. 

Again was Sans-Souci presented. 

6 


62 


Snap. 


Why do authors deal so extensively, in attempted 
descriptions of their leading characters ? 

If the heroine, for instance, be truly beautiful, she 
must needs possess individuality, yes, striking individ- 
uality of facial expression. Can this be pen portray- 
ed? Is it possible to set before the eyes of the 
reader an accurate description of one who has charmed 
you again and again by — what? Well, by her in- 
describable, her ineffable — self. The brush can prob- 
ably reproduce personality, the pen can only do in- 
justice. An habitual smile, for example, may change 
the entire cast of one’s physiognomy. So that the 
reader may carry in his mind the face of one de- 
scribed to him, who nevertheless fails to resemble 
the portrait owing to, say, a sinister frown. A single 
scar, may make a scare of one’s face. A tooth disar- 
ranged, nerveless or lost, can turn the scale from 
beauty to plainness. That sad deformity known as a 
hair-lip, may determine the bachelordom of many an 
otherwise perfect man ; or a squint, whose victim is a 
sleeping beauty, may keep a maiden so for life. 

We, therefore, shall enter into no ecstatic rhetoric 
over the “ rosy lips,” “ waving hair,” “ laughing eyes,” 
and so forth, of Ray Stanton, nor worry a Worcester, 
and weary the reader with a lengthy portrayal of either 
the Colonel or his daughter, as they looked on this 


Snap . 


63 


June morning. Let it suffice, that the soldier belied 
not that name in his tall, handsome exterior. His 
brown eyes were now heavily shaded by scraggy eye- 
brows, whilst his thin patch of hair was gradually 
assuming the color of his former enemy — gray. No 
longer supple, he walked slowly, and yet erect. Smiles 
had been struggling with wrinkles, it seemed. Since 
Ray had left the boarding school, the Colonel seemed 
to grow wonderfully more sociable, and Ernest’s daily 
visits had likewise become a source of pleasing ex- 
pectancy. “ He ’s growin’ younger ebry day,” Ebony 
had said. 

Ray Stanton had inherited the general caste, 
moulded femininely, of the Colonel’s features, with 
some pleasing improvements. The same eyes of 
brown, and regular lineaments, with a complexion free 
from tan ; and a sweet, bracket-curved mouth, whose 
lips were never tightened against the even, white 
teeth, unlike the Colonel’s mustached ones, by even a 
ghost of severity. Chestnut hair, a living picture of 
the father’s dead gray, was irregularly twisted around 
the girlish head, and this head so bewitchingly pretty, 
poised itself upon a most lithe and graceful form. 
Yet all this was even less attractive, than the happy 
combination of innocent wonder, and girlish levity, 
which formed the wonted expression of her face. 


6 4 


Snap. 


Often, as she sat caged with the Colonel on the ivy 
porch, 

“ In maiden meditation, fancy free,” 

a gleam of contentment, would struggle with a shadow 
of romantic restlessness, and her face would become 
a veritable model. On this particular morning, dressed 
in the freshest of wrappers, Sans-Souci gazed admir- 
ingly on her, solemnly avowing he had never seen so 
charming a picture. 

By this time Ernest had fully explained the ac- 
quaintance of Sans-Souci and Dick, much to the Col- 
onel’s surprise, and Ray’s intense astonishment ; es- 
pecially when the scholar accidentally let fall the word 
“ Sans-Souci.” 

“ Oh !” she said, “ there is no doubt of it, for I’ve 
heard him mention Sans-Souci clubs, and you too, 
Mr. Hart, I guess, often.” 

“Why, where is Dick?” burst in the Colonel. 
“ Call him, Ray.” 

“ And weren’t you going to come home with him 
this summer?” continued the young lady, vivaciously. 

“ Call him, Ray,” repeated the Colonel ; “ and Sin, 
too” 

Ray was now all excitement, and found her way 
rapidly to the breakfast table, whence they could plainly 
hear her hurried exclamation of “ O ! Dick,” followed 


Snap. 


65 


by rapid talking and a return gasp, more manly in 
tone, of “ Is that so ? ” and, in a few seconds, hasty 
footsteps came running along the hall, and the door 
flew violently open. 

“ Dick !” 

“ Sans ! ” 

And that settled it, at the same time slightly cool- 
ing Ray’s feverish excitement, and he they called 
Dick — a name the invariable associate of the universal 
rover, and the universal lover — seemed nigh hysteri- 
cal in his merry bursts of surprised laughter. A jolly 
face, with jolly eyes, nose, chin and mouth, and yet 
unmistakably intelligent and principled, had Dick 
Stanton. He looked a cosmopolitan, and every one 
he met became a friend, whilst his disposition seemed 
to say with the Roman Emperor, “ As I am Antonius> 
Rome is my city and country ; but as I am a man, the 
world !” Yet this Dick Stanton had too much sense 
and principle to modernize the saying, and grow a 
“ man of the world ” Merry, and yet reliable, he had 
captivated Sans-Souci at their first meeting; and Ray 
had often said, in fits of sisterly affection, “ If he wasn’t 
a brother I’d fall in love with him.” But enough. 
A thin figure had walked softly and curiously into 
the room, during the paroxysm of Dick’s delight, un- 
noticed by all save the Colonel, next whom it seated 


66 


Snap. 


itself in a high, plush chair ; the embodiment of dis- 
comfort and wonder. 

Hands had been shaken, interrogatories put and 
satisfied, and, at length, a period reached. Then Dick 
said : 

“Ah! Sans, here’s Sin, you know. This is Mr. 
Hart, Sin/’ 

Sans-Souci looked with interest at the slim form 
humbled in the chair, and could scarce restrain a 
laugh. A figure, small, thin, and angular, with a face 
freckled, tanned, and framed in red, bushy hair, win- 
dowed with little browless, gray eyes. In both hands 
was clasped a huge volume, upon which Sans-Souci 
could plainly discern, “Worcester’s Unabridged.” Dick 
winked, and Ray laughed ; Ernest looked pitifully at 
the boy, but the Colonel was mute, and seemed to 
regard Sin with the proud consciousness of possession. 

Ernest broke the silence. 

“ By the way,” said he, “ I had almost forgotten one 
of my chief reasons for coming to ‘ Willows ’ this morn- 
ing. I mean the Lyceum. I met Mr. Shadrick last 
evening, and he tells me that the bill is rather en- 
ticing, and requested me to invite you all again. Can’t 
you attend, Colonel ? ” 

“ No — no ! Thanks. I am getting too old to go to 
such — ah ! — ah ! Sin, ah ! ” 


Snap. 


67 


Sans-Souci caught the merry eye of Dick, with 
whom he was just then conversing, and listened at- 
tentively. 

Sin opened his mouth, and a sharp, shrill voice hur- 
riedly articulated : 

“ Exhibitions, entertainments, circus ” 

“ Entertainments,” interrupted the Colonel, oblivious 
of the smiles caused by Sin’s mention of “ circus 
“ yes, to go to such entertainments. Dick and Ray 
will go, though, won’t they? Hey, boys and girls ? ” 

This was a favorite and old-timed expression of the 
Colonel’s when referring to his children. “ Boys 
and girls” had become a standard at “Willows.” 
Dick, Ray, and Sans-Souci were laughing and talking 
together, Sin was absently turning the leaves of his 
Lexicon, when, during the pause between the 
Colonel’s and Ernest’s conversation, Sans-Souci said, 
in answer to a query from Ray : 

“ I certainly do think it open for improvements and 
I shall act, as I told Mr. Ernest, upon the principle of 
St. Augustin’s maxim, that, ‘ He who conceals a use- 
ful truth is equally guilty with the propagator of an in- 
jurious falsehood.’ ” 

“ ‘ Me , me y adsiim qui feci , ’ ” exclaimed Ernest, bor- 
rowing a dactyl from Virgil. “ What has brought my 
name into your talk? Have I been indiscreet ? ” 


68 


Snap. 


“Not as I am aware of,” replied Dick. “We are 
simply considering the vast number of improvements 
could be, or should be, introduced into Stanton.” 

“ Pretty heavy subject to — ah, ah, ah, — ah, Sin,” 
grumbled out the Colonel. 

“ Talk about, discuss, arg ” prompted the figure 

in the straight-back chair, who always hung on to his 
synonyms until the Colonel selected the one which 
pleased him. 

“ Yes, to, ah, discuss. Ain’t it ? ” 

“ Well,” broke in the scholar, “ everything will prob- 
ably admit of improvement, and I certainly agree 
with the Colonel, that this is a pretty heavy subject to 
discuss. But you haven’t answered my question as yet 
Will you two be present at the Lyceum this evening ? 
I am going to escort you there, Sans.” 

“ Ah ? ” 

“What do you say, Ray,” asked Dick. 

“ Go, of course. I often wanted to attend and hear 
the Judge, and those lawyers, when I heard Mr. Ernest 
speak of their meetings; but I have never gone, 
as yet.” 

“ Well, we will go then. Sans, you will have a chance 
to meet some fellow lawyers ; five, I think.” 

“ So Ernest informed me. I’d much rather become 
acquainted with a few clients.” 


Snap. 


69 


“ I wonder how they live,” exclaimed Ray, as though 
suddenly struck by a startling fact. 

“I guess they don’t, very well,” the Colonel remarked 
with a grin ; the sound of his voice causing Sin to start 
and gaze expectantly, as if awaiting employment. 

“ The people here seem sensible enough to follow 
the Scottish injunction, ‘law is costly, take a part and 
agree ’ ” laughed the scholar; and so they chatted on 
“ till morning ’gan to fade to noon,” when Dick pro- 
posed a survey of “ Willows ” environs ; so, bidding the 
Colonel good morning, Sans-Souci strutted forth with 
his friend, followed by Ernest and Ray. The little truck 
patch alive with vegetables; Ray’s flower garden; 
Dick’s miniature kennel ; the rustic hennery, in front 
of the low weather-board barn, almost hid with spread- 
ing willows ; and the patch of woods, full of grapevine 
swings, and rough rocks, which stretched towards the 
horizon, a few furlongs in the rear, were visited, in- 
spected, and admired ; and returning by the slope of 
the hill they followed the zig-zag creek until they 
reached the wicket. 

Here Sans-Souci pleaded necessary attendance to 
some luggage waiting him at the Academy, and assur- 
ing Dick of his presence at the Lyceum that evening, 
rain or shine, he and Ernest tipped their hats, and again 
took up the course of the creek. 


70 


Snap. 


“ Well, what do you think of his sister ?” inquired 
Ernest, as the two crossed the rustic bridge. 

“ Rather pretty and agreeable, I think.” 

“ Wasn't it odd, though ?” exclaimed Dick, as he 
and Ray left the wicket. “ How do you like him ?” 

" Real well,” she answered absently. 


! 


CHAPTER VII. 


LITERARY SNAPS — PARCEL ONF 


Every one enjoys a summer evening. The very 
air permeates your being and rarefies your spirits. A 
wide expanse of starry firmament, and the odors of 
sleeping flowers, make us think of heaven. 

We are too apt to decry the many beautiful and 
benevolent influences of night. To the average child 
it is a season of horror, a reign of terror ; to the aver- 
age adult it is associated with crime and death. Dark- 
ness is conspiracy, fraud, and the emblem of sin. It 
is the negative of light, which means good and true. 
So it seems ; and yet, we trow, the lurid sun is wit- 
ness to more wickedness than is the pale moon; 
merely a case of He vs. She. 

Still there is one class of human beings that has 
adored the sable Nox ever since the creative “ fiat 
lux.” The lover loves the night, and his esthetical 
nature is blind to prejudice and tradition, and per- 
ceives only the beauty and fitness of things. Take a 


72 


Snap. 


house, unplastered, rickety, and ancient. The sun 
lights up its hideous chinks and gaps, discloses 
the paneless windows, the unhinged doors, and the 
weedy yard ugly with heaps of rubbish. We con- 
temptuously turn away. 

Night kindly hides its crevices and holes, plays the 
glazier with every shattered window, closes doors and 
plasters walls, removes the rubbish, throws a shadow 
over every blemish, and makes a chromo of a hovel. 
Stars and moon take pity where the sun acts the de- 
tective. Black and white, the lights and shadows of the 
night paint as attractively as the proud sun’s spectrum . 
We stop and admire. 

So did Ray and Dick Stanton, wending their way 
by the line of willows which guarded the damp banks 
of the creek. Not admiring some bunch of ruins, or 
deserted cabin, however, but everything around them. 
Darkness plays such odd tricks with objects. A wil- 
low is truly willowy in the sunshine, night makes it an 
indistinguishable tree. Fields become oceans, and 
fences the surf. The house on the hill, with a few 
lights glowing from its windows, became weird and 
huge, whilst many buildings in Stanton threw out 
challenges of light to the stars. 

To Ray this evening was quite an event, so rarely 
had she of late ventured to the village ; and never, in 


Snap. 


73 


fact, after dusk. Eva Skinner had become, since 
Ray’s return from boarding-school, her sole friend, and 
their meetings were far from being unfrequent. Now 
everything seemed changing to Ray, and such a glori- 
ous change, too. First Dick’s arrival, then Sans- 
Souci, then this Lyceum, and soon she expected her old 
school friend on a long visit. Everything was grow- 
ing wonderfully jolly. Stanton began to assume a 
more important aspect in her eyes. She almost ex- 
pected it to grow gay and festive ; to retire at twelve 
instead of nine, and rise at nine instead of six. And 
this Edwin Hart. The few words that had passed be- 
tween them had yet sufficed to make her his fast 
friend, and fill her mind with girlishly foolish antici- 
pations. He was merry in look, voice, and action, 
yet far from being flippant ; his merriment had some- 
thing practically substantial about it. Girls are very 
apt to form first opinions, and adhere to them strictly. 
Theirs is a system of induction, the surest in the end ; 
so the philosophers say. 

Dick and his sister had now reached the church, for 
it was here the Lyceum was compelled to hold its meet- 
ings, Stanton being ignorant, as yet, of the glories of a 
town hall. The doors were thrown open, and the light 
of the lamps illumined the board walk, which formed 
the approach from the main street. It was a brick 

7 


74 


Snap. 


building and replete with gables. The only spire in 
Stanton looked down bombastically from its mossed 
roof. A few young persons of either sex were gaily 
chatting in the vestibule, and as Ray and Dick passed 
through, all looked after them with staring orbs. 

“ Father told me Shadrick expected them here,” in- 
formed Harry Skinner, who, with his sister, Eva, had 
been pleasantly nodded to, by the two strangers. 

Caveat, one of the legal quintette, looked positively 
alarmed. 

“ Hang it ! ” he complained to his friend Bail ; “ here 
I’ve come without a deuced bit of preparation, and it will 
just be my luck to have that Gastric, brimful of argu- 
ment. I didn’t know young Stanton was home, any 
how. That, what do you call her ? May or Ray, is 
real passable, isn’t she. Let’s get Harry to persuade 
his judicial papa to introduce us. Handy place to 
visit, you know, and the Colonel may need assistance 
in the management of his estate, hey? Hang that 
Gastric ! Just look how he beams, will you. The don- 
key ! Good evening, Mr. Ernest.” 

“ Ah, Caveat, Bail. My friend, Mr. Hart, possibly a 
future colleague.” 

Ernest beckoned the other group to him, and intro- 
duced Sans-Souci. The bevy seemed astounded. To 
what was Stanton coming ? Another arrival ! 


Snap. 


75 


“ Well,” said Caveat, sententiously to Bail, “ another 
one sold!' 

Sans-Souci’s fellow-professionals eyed him hardly, 
yet the common criticism of these and the others, 
seemed most favorable indeed. 

“ Thank goodness, it’s not a doctor,” sighed Gastric 
to Abrasion, as the scholar led the way into the body 
of the church. Espying Ray and Dick in one of the 
front benches engaged in conversation with the Rev. 
Thomas Shadrick, Ernest and Eva Skinner, followed 
by Harry and Sans-Souci, approached them and occu- 
pied the remainder of the bench. The clergyman 
closely scanned the late arrival, and began addressing 
a few remarks to that quarter, descriptive of the Ly- 
ceum. 

The lecture-room filled rapidly, benches and chairs 
were brought and placed in the aisles, and soon the 
major part of Stanton became the Lyceum’s audience. 

Suddenly, a loud voice was heard in the vestibule, 
not angry, or excited, but perfectfy cool and natural, 
only with an unnatural inflection, saying, 

“ Gettin’ full, ain’t she ? ” 

All Stanton looked back at the speaker, then turned 
around indifferently, and smiled, “the Judge.” 

“Is that Judge Skinner?” inquired Sans-Souci of 
Ernest, who was sitting on the other side of Ray, talk- 


;6 


Snap. 


ing to Eva, the Judge’s daughter, now strangely blush- 
ing at her father’s display before these strangers. 

The scholar nodded. 

“ He conducts the Editor’s Drawer, I believe,” said 
Ray, and, meeting Sans-Souci’s inquiring glance, con- 
tinued : “ Mr. Ernest told me about it. It is something 
Mr. Shadrick introduced into the Lyceum, and he says 
it is the most interesting feature. Letters, you know, 
are sent to him be to read here, and he criticises them, 
and takes great interest in it, Mr. Ernest says.” 

“Strange they appoint the Judge,” said Sans. 

Shadrick had more than once regretted this fact 
himself, but it was originally done as a conp-d' etat to 
retain the Judge’s interest in the Association. His 
excellent stock of common sense, and his unpolished, 
but really solid fund of legal lore, had acted as a su- 
perior argument to his lack of ceremony, and ac- 
quaintance with grammar. Just here, let us be digres- 
sive for a few seconds. It is a too common mistake 
with persons of nice and delicate educations, that 
ignorance of one branch, naturally affects one’s ac- 
quaintance with all other branches of knowledge. 
Never was there a greater error. It often occurs that 
continued contact with the illiterate, will gradually be- 
get in one a similarity, say of manners, habits, and 
talk. In other words, it may be possible for us to re- 


Snap. 


77 


side with those, to whom grammar is a foreign word; 
and likewise possible for us in such a case, as foreign- 
ers, to become naturalized, and adopt the customs of 
our new country. So it may possibly have been with 
the Judge. “More interesting than brilliant,” Shad- 
rick had explained to Sans-Souci. 

On this evening, the clergyman had left the latter, 
as soon as he perceived the Judge’s presence, and 
had been greeted by that worthy with the loud “ get- 
tin’ full, ain’t she ?” 

Shadrick colored somewhat, and then button-holed 
his elder, proceeding in the most guarded of language 
to deliver himself of a few vague suggestions on par- 
liamentary etiquette, and the necessity of speaking in 
a low tone ; adding particular emphasis to the crown- 
ing news, that “ the Stantons were present.” 

The Judge was by no means affectionately inclined 
towards his young pastor, and it was therefore doubt- 
ful whether actual innocence or acted malevolence 
prompted his provokingly unconscious reply of “ yes, 
the young folks make too much noise for a literary 
association.” 

Shadrick sadly followed him up the aisle, and heard 
him greet Ray and Dick, and acknowledge Ernest’s 
presentation of Sans-Souci, in his usually loud tone. 
The lawyers and doctors were commingled on benches 

7 * 


78 


Snap. 


directly in front of the one occupied by the Skinners, 
Stantons, Ernest and Sans-Souci and seemed particu- 
larly delighted at the Judge’s brusqueness. 

The room itself was a type of the average country 
lecture, or Sabbath school room. Scriptural charts, 
blackboards with printed mottoes, and framed com- 
mandments, lined the calcimined walls. Matting 
covered the aisles, and the superintendent’s desk 
looked a store box, in an advanced state of evolution. 
The assemblage of persons, on this particular June 
evening, if viewed from the architectural light of a 
plan, presented the exaggerated appearance of a 
large patch of meadow daisies. 

Summer bonnets in Stanton were simply winter 
bonnets, with some addenda of gaiety in the shape of 
ribbons and flowers, and things. On this evening 
white dresses were in the excess, whilst the males 
were evenly divided between colors and black. 

Naturally enough, Ray, Dick and Sans-Souci be- 
came the objects of a scrutinizing criticism from 
almost every eye in the room. Both Dick and Sans- 
Souci were something new. Fresh from the great 
metropolis, they came dressed in startling innovation. 
Their collars were two years ahead of the piccadilly ; 
their light neck-ties covered their bosoms ; their vests 
and coats buttoned high, and their pantaloons were 


Snap. 


79 


tight Male Stanton was just at this time revelling in 
high collars and wide breeches, and now it expe- 
rienced a most astonished shock, especially the youth- 
ful professionals, who thenceforth judged their pre- 
cedency in style to suffer a most humiliating defeat. 
Caveat almost gnashed his teeth as he sat reviewing 
the early advantages of this fresh up-start, and his 
apparent intimacy at “ Willows ” by no means lessened 
his discontent. Just here the Rev. Thomas Shadrick 
entered the list of malcontents. 

Ray had always received her dresses from New 
York, one of the Colonel’s whimsicalities, so she be- 
came as severely open to criticism as Dick and Sans- 
Souci — more so, perhaps. We do not pretend to 
follow female changes in dress, they are a little too 
numerous for male memory, minus Worth, to mention ; 
especially for us who always failed in chronology. 
Still, our recollection is accurate enough to permit us 
to assert, with some degree of confidence, that Flor- 
ence hats were then fashionably dead, ditto the pull- 
back, which things female Stanton wore. Ray 
had on something between a panier and something 
else, whilst her hat was a bonnet. Thus, differing from 
the other ladies, save Eva Skinner, who had some- 
what copied her friend Ray’s apparel, the latter natu- 


8o 


Snap. 


rally became a focus, and every pair of feminine eyes 
a duet of radii. 

“What fools these mortals be,” a great dramatist 
once said. 

Mr. Shadrick glanced at his watch — it was half- 
past seven. Then he glanced at the audience, and 
the boyish fragment in the rear seemed half past 
patience. So he arose, walked to the superinten- 
dent’s pulpit, sat down, poured out some water, 
drank it, and then clearing his throat, arose again 
and gave three sharp taps on the desk with the 
cherry-headed gavel. 

“As the lyceum will now be closed,” he began, 
“ until the first Friday in September, and as the exer- 
cises for this evening are rather lengthy, we will com- 
mence a little earlier than usual. It is needless to tell 
you at the close of this term that the society has thus 
far been very prosperous, nor is it hazardous to pre- 
dict the same for the future. We expect (with a smile 
towards the scholars’ bench,) to make a few valuable 
additions to our member roll, and count upon an in- 
crease of literary activity on the part of the young 
people, as it was mainly for their benefit the lyceum 
was created. We shall now proceed.” 

The prayer finished, the President ordered the read- 
ing of the minutes, and Caveat arose with the impor- 


Snap. 


8i 


tance of an under-secretary and began reading in a 
loud key. 

“June 19th, 187- — The meeting was called to 
order, with the President in the chair. Thirty males 
and thirty-two females (a titter) present.” 

Mr. Caveat warmed in his work and each sentence 
left him an octave higher, until he fairly hurled the 
climactic words with a triumphant flourish: “John 
Caveat, Secretary.” 

“ Proposals for membership,” read the clergyman, 
after a slight pause, which the secretary seemed to be 
under the impression, was silent admiration of his late 
elocutionary effort. 

Ernest, who had been talking to Dick, Ray and 
Sans-Souci, now rose and spoke : 

“ Mr. President, I propose the names of Miss Ray 
and Mr. Richard Stanton, too well-known to need 
further allusion; also, of my friend, Mr. Edwin 
Hart, who contemplates residing here in his pro- 
fessional capacity. By their admission, the lyceum 
will certainly secure valuable accessions.” 

“ I move the whole of ’em be admitted,” said the 
Judge, not noticing the sovereign superiority of the 
eight smiles which emanated from the professional 
clique immediately behind him. 

“ Is that motion seconded ?” inquired the divine, 


82 


Snap. 


slightly embarrassed at his elder’s lack of parlia- 
mentary diction. 

“ Second it ! ” shouted a chorus of youth in the rear, 
unconsciously aided by the legal and medical fra- 
ternity, who had each supposed himself the only one 
to favor the motion aloud. 

“All in favor will please say ‘ay,’” continued 
Shadrick, smilingly. 

“ Ay ! ! ” fairly howled the discordant choir of 
boys, to whom this was a privilege, the most delight- 
ful in all the order of exercises, and comprised their 
only literary effort, which was certainly gigantic. 

The Judge frowned, Shadrick looked slightly con- 
fused, and those voted upon laughed. 

“ Opposed, no.” 

“ No ! ” gurgled a few imps near the vestibule, but 
older heads looked sternly at them, and the President, 
ignoring this ignominious negative, pronounced the 
affirmative vote unanimous. 

“Unfinished business,” called out the divine, re- 
suming his seat. 

Mr. Bail arose with an elastic jump, and with his 
face half turned towards the new members and his 
eyes bent obliquely on the President, pompously be- 
gan in running accents, which savored strongly of the 
lamp. 




Snap. 


83 


“ Mr. President: In pursuance of the orders of the 
Stanton Lyceum, the committee appointed to inter- 
view a corresponding committee of the Oakville Lit- 
erary Association, tending to the consummation of 
all the preliminary particulars concerning the proposed 
debate with that Association, which debate was to 
occur on some Monday evening in September, be- 
tween four members of each of the respective so- 
cieties, to be appointed by the presidents, repeatedly 
endeavored to obtain such a meeting, but were uni- 
formly unsuccessful. Sincerely regretting the com- 
pulsory nature of the report, but still regarding the 
object of the committee as one of great importance, 
we beg the said committee be continued. 

“James Bail, Chairman. 

As he sat down, flushed with his rapid effort, Bail 
turned himself around, and glanced triumphantly at 
the occupants of the bench behind him. 

But alas ! he met only smiles, and heard laughs 
from his unsympathizing companions, and even a grunt 
from the Judge. Assumpsit whispered to him, and 
then he perceived his horrible bauch of attaching his 
name verbally to his report, which he had committed 
for greater effect. 

He was mad. “ Made an ass of myself, anyhow,” 
he afterwards complained to Assumpsit, “ writing that 


84 


Snap. 


report up for nothing. If we didn’t do anything why 
didn’t I just say so ? ” “ Don’t know,” said the other. 

The President controlled his features, coughed, and 
said : 

“ Has the committee appointed to. select subjects 
for the contemplated debate, anything to report ? ” 

Mr. Lien, another of the legal group, arose, not 
fully recovered from a fresh spasm of laughter at his 
chum’s late sell, and started forth in a semi-reckless, 
yet confident tone. 

“ Mr. President, Mr. Bail’s report has rendered the 
services of the committee, of which I am chairman, 
entirely unnecessary, at least for the present. Still 
being called upon, I would state that, should the other 
committee have reported differently, the following 
would have been the list of subjects presented for dis- 
cussion, they being, we think, as the society ordered, 
subjects of a practical nature and simple in statement : 

“ Which system of philosophy has furnished man- 
kind with more truth, materialism, or idealism ? 

“ Is the doctrine of evolution compatible with the 
Biblical record of the creation ? 

“ Viewing the existence of the Mormon religion from 
an ethical stand-point, would it be just for our Na- 
tional Legislature to suppress it ? ” 

Judge Skinner had been moving restlessly on his 


Snap. 


85 


bench during the latter portion of Lien’s speech, and 
now, before that individual could append a few com- 
mitted remarks upon the incalculable value of public 
discussions, the Judge was standing up, and eyeing 
Shadrick, burst forth : 

“ Mr. President : We did suggest to this commit- 
tee to make all their subjects simple and plain, but 
simple don’t mean nonsense nor do big words make 
sense. Now, I don’t care what kind of debates this 
lyceum argues, but as a member of it, I do care for 
the good of the rest of the members; and for that 
reason I don’t want to hear anything discussed here 
that the others can’t take any interest in. Them sub- 
jects were to be simple. Are they? Look at the 
first, for instance ; that one about materials and ideas. 
Now, I don’t remember these philosophies, but I do 
know that all such stuff never did the world as much 
good as a wooden barrow. Take the next, some- 
thing about 'evolution’ and 'creation.’ That’s just 
as bad. The more I read of Darwinism and Tyndall 
and Huxley the more I think them all cracked. You 
might say that other people differed from me, and 
that’s the reason we should discuss it. That isn’t the 
point. Will it benefit this lyceum? Not one whit. 
The last one about the Mormons is a little better than 
the other two, yet it isn’t stated plain and simple. 


86 


Snap . 


Why not say ‘ Must the Mormons go ?’ The whole 
point’s there, and all the ‘ ethics/ too.” 

The Judge’s indignant protest seemed to excite the 
mirth of the young followers of Lycurgus and ^Escu- 
lapius, whilst those behind were less amused. 

“ I think there is a great deal of truth in what he 
says, don’t you ?” whispered Ray to Sans-Souci. 

“Somewhat. Still they say 'knowledge without 
education is but armed injustice,’ though I scarcely 
think the Judge is within the pale of that remark.” 

The President had arisen, crushing with a glance 
the half-developed intention of lawyer Lien, who was 
halting between a desire to say something good at the 
Judge’s expense, and a diffidence as to his ability to 
perform that graceful act. 

“As the arrangements for the debate are still in 
progress, it would be better to postpone all discussion 
on that subject until a later period,” said the clergy- 
man, continuing in the same breath as if fearing disa- 
greeable interruption: “Is there anything further 
under the head of unfinished business ?” 

There being no answer, he continued with a sigh 
of relief — 

“ If not, we shall proceed to the literary exercises. 
Mr. Secretary, whose name is first on the list of read- 
ings ?” 


Snap. 


3 7 


“Judas Gall.” 

A thin, tall, seedy and greedy-looking youth, with 
a large volume held tightly in both hands, rushed for- 
ward as if fearing detention. Bowing, or rather nod- 
ding pleasantly to the President, he turned and faced 
the association, repeated the same act of recognition ; 
then clearing his throat with almost an air of Con- 
gressional importance, he shouted in a voice of unmis- 
takable lung power, giving the lie to his frail form — 

“ Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. Persons repre- 
sented : 

“ Claudius, King of Denmark, etc.” 

Shadrick had thrown himself back in his chair, but 
at the words “ Persons represented,” he started for- 
ward, met Ernest’s puzzled gaze, and then an awful 
thought dawned on him. Was this Gall going to 
read the entire play of Hamlet ? He listened further. 

“ ‘ Ber. Long live the King ! 

* Fran. Bernardo ? 

•Ber. He.’” 

What did he mean, anyhow ? There was nothing 
of extreme interest in the first scene. Beads of moist 
anger and vexation glistened on the President’s cleri- 
cal brow as he heard the youth magniloquently de- 
claim 

“ Peace, break thee off!” 


88 


Snap. 


“ If he only would,” thought the divine, 

Representing each character without a change in 
voice, he kept hurriedly on aglow with excitement, 
seemingly unconscious of the audience’s presence. 

The President sat aghast, and the boys in the rear 
perceiving nothing of interest in Judas’ rendition, be- 
gan whispering and making audible comments. 

“ Take a rest, Gall.” “ Don’t eat the ghost.” “ Let 
up on it.” “ Look out, he’ll swallow the book.” 

Judas was severely galled by these remarks, but 
except an occasional indulgence in a freckled frown 
he gave them little attention, elevating his voice 
still higher, a most herculean effort, as it now “ piped 
and whistled in its sound,” and his angular counte- 
nance swelled with carmine exertion. 

Shadrick was restless with indignation. Had this 
Gall been a passable reader instead of a most monot- 
onous pair of bellows, there still would have been no 
palliation for this wild attempt to read an entire play 
from Shakspeare. 

“ It faded on the crowing of the cock,” roared Judas. 

“ So will you if I permit this,” thought the agitated 
divine, determined to stop the boisterous larynx, and 
strengthened in the resolution by a sight of the ex- 
treme pleasure the dramatist was affording those in 


Snap. 


89 


front, and ashamed of the slang hurled towards the 
desk by those in the rear. 

“ Let’s do’t, I pray,” creaked Judas’ fatigued voice. 

“ Grease it.” “ Take it out airin’.” “ Wrap it in 
flannel.” “ Varnish it.” 

Judas paused at the end of the first scene, reached 
out his hand to the President’s desk, grasped the lat- 
ter’s tumbler of water, swallowed its contents, and in 
setting it down caught sight of a ministerial face 
clouded with wrath. It beckoned him up. 

“Judas, you are tired,” it said firmly, “and your 
reading will have a better effect if the remainder be 
postponed until next term.” 

Judas grasped rather eagerly at this idea, as his 
self-conceit and lungs had experienced a most se- 
vere shock, so the President arose and announced that 
“ Mr. Gall had decided to defer the remainder of the 
drama until next fall.” 

“ Make it later.” “ Put him to bed.” “ Rub him 
down.” “ Broken-winded.” 

These, and more greeted the weary Gall as he strode 
down the aisle and buried himself for the remainder 
of the evening. 

“ The next name, Mr. Secretary.” 

“Samuel Dumps.” 

There was a moving of bodies on benches, a 


90 


Snap. 


straightening of limbs and a general silence, but no 
Dumps. 

“ Will the gentleman named please come forward 
and favor us with his selection ?” said Shadrick. 

Titters and a scuffle near the vestibule were the 
only response. But the Judge, who was standing up, 
caught sight of the culprit crouched under a bench 
and struggling with some companions, who were en- 
deavoring to drag him out. 

“Samuel !” exclaimed the Judge in a stern voice. 

That unlucky youth, comprehending his discovery, 
struggled forth, and, brushing the dust from his disar- 
ranged garments, eyed the astonished audience and 
President, and stammered out in a broken voice, 

“ Mr. President, I decline.” 

Even Shadrick grinned at the innocent simplicity of 
poor Dumps’ reply, whilst the boys in the rear, like 
wary tacticians, seized the favorable opportunity of 
thundering a violent refrain of cat-calls and whistles. 

When the gavel had restored some silence, the Pres- 
ident half-seriously chid poor Dumps for his derelic- 
tion of duty, and then inquired of the Secretary for 
the third name. 

“ Miss Pauline Murth.” 

A slim, shy, and rather pretty maiden, her dress 
aglow with the rustic plethora of colors, walked bash- 


Snap . 


9i 


fully forward, holding a tiny tome in her left hand. 
Without raising her eyes, she courtesied to the matting, 
and in a tremulous voice almost inaudible whispered, 
“ Speech of Sergeant Buzfuz.” 

“ Confound it,” thought Shadrick, “ why didn’t she 
read something serious or a love poem? She has just 
the voice and appearance for that. But Buzfuz ! Bah ! 
the very idea ! ” 

Miss Pauline was evidently under the impression 
that the Lyceum had been gradually preparing itself 
for this event, her advent; and the general silence, 
which correctly interpreted meant interest and sympa- 
thy for her, only added to her confusion and sense of 
responsibility. A noise, applause, or even a hiss would 
have given her confidence ; but silence, deep, unbroken 
silence, almost melted her into tears of distraction. 
She was actually getting unable to read the lines, but 
still the audience laughed not, and the good points of 
the Sergeant were hurried over as though they were 
burning stones. Commas, semicolons, and periods, 
parentheses, exclamations, and interjections lost all 
their significance, and nothing remained but language 
without articulation. Miss Pauline grasped the book 
with both hands and held it closer to her eyes, stam- 
mering on ; still no sign of approval or disapproval. 
No one recognized any fun, seeming alone interested 


92 


Snap. 


in the reader’s pretty face ; and soon she began to ex- 
perience misgivings herself as to the humorous quali- 
ty of her selection. She began to elide words, then 
skip whole paragraphs, and at last wound up abruptly 
in the very heart of the famous plea. 

Bowing again to the matting, she hastily recovered 
her bench and was greeted with a perfect hurricane of 
claps, whistles and juvenile enthusiasm, so extravagant 
that she began to feel a revulsion, and wish she had 
continued. Judas Gall smiled contemptuously, and 
wondered why he had not been so applauded. He 
forgot his face. 

“ The next name, Mr. Secretary.” 

“ Miss Murth is the last reader.” 

“Ah, who comes first in recitations?” 

“ Robert Celery.” 

Robert walked forward. A short, circular-faced lad 
of seventeen, with bullet eyes, and a skyward nose. 
His look was one of shrewdness and suspicion, and 
seemed to say, “ you can’t make fun of me, I’m a 
model.” And so he was. 

“ ‘ The Raven,’ ” Mr. Celery announced in decided 
accents, and in a chokingly deep and solemn voice, 
now and then streaked with patches of falsetto, he 
waded right on as rapidly as language would permit, 
finishing each line with a confident inflection. 


Snap. 


93 


“ How poor Poe would rave indeed ,” said Sans- 
Souci. 

Celery glided on like a wind-mill, his gestures com- 
pleting the simile. He smote the air hammer-like, 
and seemed desirous of finishing the declamation in- 
stanter if it was not for the nuisance of words. Now 
he reached the last stanza, and grinding it out in less 
time than a locomotive could traverse a hundred yard 
tangent, he gurgled the final “ nevermore” with a 
chuckle of satisfaction, and started down the aisle. 
The boys cheered him vigorously, for he was short, 
and ergo, sweet to their taste. 

“ Miss Kate Tickle,” said the Secretary. Miss Kate 
was a half-developed miss of thirteen, with a pug 
nose. She came forward without the slightest sign of 
diffidence and seemed to regard the whole transaction 
as a capital joke. She paused, and looked the audi- 
ence square in the face until her eyes caught those oi- 
lier late companion in one of the centre benches; 
then she laughed outright. Recovering, she bowed 
obliquely and explained in a quivering tone — 

“ Hundred and seventeenth Psalm.” Then in the 
same vibratory accents she repeated that shortest of 
David’s lyrics in one breath, and with a second genu- 
flection tripped laughingly to her seat. 

Shadrick was shocked, and ditto the Judge, but the 


94 


Snap. 


rest were amused, and the juvenile segment sounded 
Miss Tickle’s praises loudly. Repressing the words 
of censure which arose to his lips, the President 
glanced towards Caveat, and exchanging a few words, 
lost in the ovation, announced with an air of satisfac- 
tion and rest — 

“ The debate is now in order. It is : ‘ Which class 

of men prove of more benefit to mankind, physicians 
or lawyers ? ’ Mr. Gastric will maintain the reputa- 
tion of the former, Mr. Caveat of the latter. Mr. 
Gastric will please step forward.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 


LITERARY SNAPS — PARCEL TWO. 


Mr. Gastric arose and walked grandly to the ros- 
trum. He was a young man on the leeward side of 
twenty-five, with an infantile mustache and a frock 
coat oratorically buttoned in the middle, revealing a 
silk handkerchief. He evidently enjoyed his situa- 
tion and considered his opponent defeated in the eyes 
of the audience, simply by his presence. His smile 
and knowing look seemed to be a recognition of the 
fact that he and the lyceum had entered into a league 
to defeat Caveat, and that the latter gentleman would 
be only too happy to escape if he were able. 

Mr. Gastric coughed, wiped his mouth with the 
silk handkerchief, and studying deeply as if the 
whole thing was entirely ex tempore with him, began 
in a treble voice, rather at variance with his com- 
manding attitude. 

“ Mr. President. Although notified of my appoint- 
ment on this debate, yet so completely has my time 


96 


Snap. 


been occupied that I have had but little preparation 
for so weighty a subject. In my few moments of 
leisure, however, I have taken down several ideas 
which forced themselves upon me, and which, with 
the consent of this intelligent audience, I will proceed 
to declare.” 

Here Gastric plunged his hand indifferently into his 
coat pocket and drew forth a most monstrous roll of 
manuscript, neatly edged and written, denoting on its 
face the product of some nocturnal study. His face 
now became sublimely defiant and his voice deepened 
to an untrained bass, as he started forth a renovated 
orator. 

“There was once an Italian proverb which said 
‘physicians never take nostrums,’ and the world 
laughed at the scandal until Fielding retorted, ‘ nor 
lawyers go to law,’ when the world turned and laughed 
at the scandal-monger. The simple question is, do 
we derive more benefit from a profession which de- 
votes all its energy to prolonging our life than from 
one w r hich labors to create broils and dissensions? 
So apparent is the just solution of this problem that 
I would not hesitate to cease speaking further, and 
leave the decision to hinge entirely upon this state- 
ment ; but, realizing that there is nothing so insidious 
as sophistry, I deem it my duty to anticipate the 


Snap. 


97 


probable arguments of the other side and ease them 
of their fallacy. 

“ It will probably be a part of my opponent’s policy 
to associate the profession of law with the great 
science; of statecraft. As just and true would it be to 
repeat monkey and man in the same breath ; for until 
evolution can make an ape a human being, a lawyer 
will never evolve the brilliancy of a statesman. We 
discover an impassable chasm between the words 
chicanery and diplomacy, trickery and truth, a po- 
litical bum and a prime minister. Law, sir, in the 
present day, retrogrades every hour as a respectable 
vocation in life. Once, when every political trickster 
and public scoundrel pursued his nefarious calling 
under the names of pettifogger and thief, law was a 
science; now it has become the refuge and asylum for 
every man in whom is ingrained the nature of a leech, 
a bloodthirstiness after the substance of his fellow- 
men. 

“ Many persons are accustomed to consider the 
words justice and lawyer as correlatives, one only 
executing the purposes and principles of the other. 
Never, sir, was there a greater error. Justice aims at 
equity and right, at the settlement of difficulties, na- 
tional and local. Do lawyers pursue this course? 
Let us see. They live on discussions, thrive on the 

9 


9 8 


Snap . 


multiplication of enmities and grow rich on great 
broils. No one could censure this fact if the lawyer 
was a necessary evil to the well-working of the body 
politic; but, on the contrary, he actually produces 
these social differences himself. There was a time 
when disagreements between men were settled by 
arbiters of acknowledged ability and worth, appointed 
especially for that laudable purpose. Now there is no 
issue, be the justice in the case ever so palpable, but 
the refinement of our so-called law can discover ar- 
guments pro or con. The lawyer does, indeed, live 
upon the hydrophobia froth of society’s insanity, ex- 
cited to that unnatural state by his own artifice. 
Were men good, lawyers would starve, and vice 
versa , if lawyers would starve men would be much 
better than they now are. There is no word in history 
more revolting than ‘ against.’ The French arrayed 
against the English, for instance ; the English against 
the Americans ; the North against the South. Yet 
lawyers eat their daily bread because of this aggres- 
sive adverb. They feast on ‘ versi! They grow 
hardened so that they can rob a widow or an orphan. 
Estates fade into other states not so tangible when 
placed in their hands. By the carte-blanche of their 
cheek, which is the only blanch it ever experiences, 
their fees become enormous and impoverish the land. 


Snap. 


99 


Review the life of any dead lawyer, aye, living one, 
and a microscope of * double hextra power ’ will fail 
to find a redeeming act. What corrupts politics ? 
Why, the politicians. Who are these politicians? 
The worst are lawyers. In this age 

* All would be deemed, e’en from the cradle, fit 
To rule in politics as well as wit 

and wherever there are lawyers of ambitious minds, 
men to whom employment without fame and power 
is nauseating, there will needs be corruption, and a 
wealth of it. The great social evil of the day is the 
profession of law. It is the deadly cuttle fish which 
is sapping the peace of every American home. To 
be more positive in our line of argument, what good 
does the physician do? 

“ Mr. President, any sane man need but read the 
medical reports, visit the hospitals and consider the 
incalculable number of lives annually saved through 
the exertions of Our profession, and he gains a satis- 
factory but an incomplete conception of the benefit 
the world derives from us. For a brief we substitute 
the more potent prescription — instead of consuming 
an estate we save a life. The lawyer takes from rich and 
poor — we give to both of these, literally fulfilling the 
maxim, ‘ Charity is the scope of all God’s commands.’ 
A doctor is the highest style of a man and deserves 


IOO 


Snap. 


the aid and kindest thoughts of his fellows. Young 
physicians (ahem !) should especially be regarded 
with favor, since upon them will devolve the future 
guardianship of the popular health. Age, in the 
present day, makes but little difference in the capa- 
bilities of a physician, as the medical knowledge, 
which one hundred years ago was obtained chiefly 
from experienced observation and experiment, can now 
be acquired by reading and study. 

“ Mr. President, further argument would be verbiage. 
This audience is too intelligent to misjudge the benefit 
secured to humanity by the medical profession. It 
has check-mated fate, changed the destinies of men 
and nations, and annihilated destiny itself. Law was 
introduced on earth by Satan and has been his con- 
stant emissary. There is an inelegant aphorism which 
declares the only difference between the poor and rich 
man to be that ‘ one walks to get food for his stomach, 
the other stomach for his food.’ So it may be said 
of justice and law; that the former deals with crimes 
and prisons, because to be just it must, whilst the 
lawyer fills the docket to fill his pocket.” 

Gastric folded his manuscript, bowed haughtily, and 
stepped down into a shower of applause, in which the 
occupants of the first benches heartily joined. The 
whistles and cat-calls were absent however, they 


Snap. 


IOI 


having slid noiselessly into the moonlight at the men- 
tion of debate. 

Caveat had been growing restless, and more so, 
during his opponent’s tirade. His preparation was 
not so complete as Gastric’s, and yet he felt a proud 
consciousness of superior mental and oratorical attain- 
ments. So to be worsted by him, and especially at 
this meeting, was intolerable. He thought of fainting, 
headache, epilepsy, or cramps ; but then such symp- 
toms might be misconstrued, or more properly, con- 
strued. Suddenly, his profile smiled, then grew ra- 
diant, and eventually hysterical with contentment. 
He remembered a college debate on the political 
purity of ancient and modern times, in which he had 
maintained the merits of the latter with great eclat. 

“ It won’t fit very well,” he thought, “ but they’ll 
think I’m arguing deductively.” 

So when Gastric ceased, Caveat’s quartette of chums 
who were sadly aware of their champion’s lack of 
preparation, were surprised to see that individual, 
Antaeus-like, arise unflinchingly in response to Shad- 
rick’s summons for the negative. He looked any- 
thing but crushed, and his eagle nose seemed to scent 
legal victory. 

“ Mr. President,” he began loftily. “ It is a favorite 
theme with men grown gray to descant upon the great 


102 


Snap. 


political corruption of these, our times, and by an 
exa ggerated comparison with those in which they 
figured, to place before the eyes of the American 
youth an extravagant mirage of moral degradation, 
refracted, it would seem, from the mediaeval ages. 
With due deference to these disaffected fossils, let us 
inquire into the truth of their assertion. The page of 
history reveals the curious fact that in all ages, in all 
countries, no matter how prosperous, there has ex- 
isted a class of malcontents, who endeavored by every 
artifice to stir into ebullition the calm surface of the 
political sea. 

“ Thus it was in the palmiest days of Persia, Greece, 
or Rome. The latter, as a republic , was constantly 
reminded by its eloquent demagogues of those glorious 
ages when .Tineas, with his Trojan horde, or Romulus, 
with his band of daring highwaymen, made victorious 
war upon the primitive races of Italy. Rome, as an 
empire , lamented the bright days which blessed it as 
a republic, and seditious orators dwelt with glowing 
enthusiasm upon the glories of a State made happy 
by the presence of a Cato, Cicero or Brutus, when the 
eagle proudly fluttered in the forests of India, on the 
plains of Scythia or the deserts of Africa, under the 
banner of Lucullus, Sylla, or the great Pompey; 
when the Roman Senate made laws for the world. 


Snap. 


103 


untrammeled by the haughty presence of an em- 
peror ; and when consuls ruled with iron hand from 
the white cliffs of Albion to the banks of the Tanais. 
Rome, as a disintegrated empire, crushed by the rude 
hands of the Northern barbarians, with its capitol re- 
moved from the Tiber to the Bosphorus, sighed for the 
guiding genius of a Caesar, the glories of an Augustan 
age or the clemency of a Diocletian. 

“ Thus it is in every age and country. There are 
those who consider the times gone by as more 
glorious epochs than their own, forgetful of the law 
of progression and the periodic stagnation of arts and 
sciences. We admire the Grecian Phidias, but more 
so his Italian peer, Michael Angelo. To him who 
displays, with a contemptuous glance at modern ge- 
nius, the great works of Apelles or Praxiteles, we will 
point with pride to the chef -d } oeuvres of Raphael or 
Rubens. So in literature, philosophy, or science. 
We court a comparison of Milton with Homer, Shak- 
speare with Euripides or Sophocles, Byron with An- 
acreon, Macaulay with Thucydides, all their poets, 
historians, and dramatists with ours; Bacon with 
Socrates, Locke with Aristotle; Pitt, Burke, Fox, 
Webster or Clay with Demosthenes, Caesar, Catullus, 
or Cicero ; Archimedes and ^Esculapius with Newton 
and Harvey ; and thus we could pass through every 


104 


Snap. 


department of science and belles-lettres and over- whelm 
the light of the ancient by the lustre of the modern 
genius. 

“ Our politics are impure. We willingly admit it. 
Yet so it was when Pericles ruled in the city of 
the Acropolis, when Cicero thundered in the Forum, 
when Mazarin controlled the great French monarch, 
when Somers plotted on the banks of the Thames, and 
when Washington — n'importe how pure the times — 
rested from the labors of a great and successful revo- 
lution.” 

Here Caveat came to a dead pause. 

So far his college debate, no matter how little to 
the point, had been of great service, but now he 
reached the limit of his memory, and stuck. He re- 
membered some irrelevant proverbs and a few Latin 
quotations he had accumulated during the past week 
as the skeleton of a speech, but beyond this crude 
material he was without resource. Realizing how 
dangerous it was to hesitate, however, he mopped his 
perplexed pate and struck a new line of thought. 

“ But, sir, the gentleman accuses lawyers of making 
lawsuits in order to get fees. We deny it, and say 
boldly that justice and law are as inseparably con- 
nected as — as teeth and gums. Has the gentleman 
forgotten what Cicero says ? ‘ Fundamentnm perpetua 


Snap. 


105 


commendationis et fames — et fames — commendationis 
et famce ’ — ah, and so forth. Why, sir, every one 
knows it. While on the other hand it is a well- 
known fact that doctors introduce disease for basely 
mercenary purposes. I could weary this audience, 
with accounts of epidemics and pestilences brought 
into towns and cities, and even spread over a whole 
land by the machinations of these horrible flesh-eaters. 

“ Do doctors do any good? No, sir; not a bit. In 
countries where medicine is not known people are 
perfectly healthy, but in those countries where this 
lancet viper is he brings death or disease immediately. 
But we should remember with Seneca that, ‘ How- 
ever wretched a fellow mortal may be he is still a 
member of our common species/ But, sir, the vil- 
lainy of the physician does not stop at robbing his 
brothers of life, but with the most unnatural gluttony 
he enters the sacred city of the dead and consumes 
the remains of our loved ones with a glee horrible to 
behold. I say consume, for late investigations in the 
German universities have revealed the awful fact that 
so savage have the medical students become there, 
that, with cannibal instincts they devour the mutilated 
remains of their dissecting tables.” 

Mr. Caveat paused again, and the effect of his last 
argument was most cheerfully gratifying. 


io6 


Snap. 


“ Ugh ! the beasts !” exclaimed Ray. 

The lawyers were terribly tickled and Gastric’s side 
indignantly disgusted. 

“ The infernal liar !” said Ligament. 

“ Never had any sense, anyhow,” said Gastric. 

Success inspired the orator, and he proceeded in an 
elevated key. 

“ But, sir, we have not answered the most brainless 
assertion of the other gentleman that lawyers are 
nothing but pettifoggers and petty politicians. Sir, 
we unqualifiedly deny it, and assert that it is a maxim 
faithfully followed by every lawyer to prefer loss to 
unjust gain! But, sir, look at the medical profession, 
and one-half — yes, two-thirds — are quacks and the 
bogus distillers of patent medicines. Where is the 
family that hasn’t one empty chair and emptied by 
this patent poison ? Why, sir, it is awful. Myriads 
of human beings are killed, aye, wantonly murdered 
every hour by the vile nostrums prepared by these 
ignorant savages. Why, sir, we are hardly safe in 
our homes, although locked in with bolts. Men, sir, 
who will brutally carve a corpse, eating crackers at 
the same time, will do anything with a live man. My 
opponent concludes with a personal advertisement by 
trying to make us believe young doctors are as good 
as old ones. Had he only changed one word, sir, he 


Snap. 


107 


would have changed it to truth but materially altered 
the meaning. Young doctors are as bad as old ones, 
and worse. But, sir, without any personal interest at 
all, I can boldly assert that age does not affect the 
capacity of lawyers. If it does, sir, it only argues 
for the more youthful. But fearing my motives may 
be perverted, I stop.” 

So Caveat ran on, gaining energy and confidence 
at every clause. Cannonading his adversary with 
slang, and gradually working in a mass of irrelevant 
proverbs, he rounded his substance by the unction of 
his animation. The startling nature of his list of 
maxims became doubly so by his unmeaning appli- 
cations. 

“ Lawyers are the greatest thinkers,” he said, “ and 
the most moral men on earth, and truly may it be said 
that * Falsehood is most dangerous when it puts on 
the semblance of truth.’ ” 

Again : 

“ Doctors live on cancers, amputations and spasms, 
realizing the adage, ‘Wise men are instructed by 
reason, men of less understanding by experience, the 
most ignorant by necessity, and beasts by nature. 

His last sentence, however, was happily marked by 
an apropos proverb. 

“ But,” said he, “ why argue any longer against 


io8 


Snap. 


\ 


persons so bigoted and prejudiced as my antagonist? 
Let me simply follow the advice of that old saying, 
‘When either side grows warm with argument the 
wisest man gives over. * ” 

Mr. Shadrick hastily arose when Caveat ceased, de- 
termined to anticipate and prevent any further discus- 
sion. Gastric was boiling over with scalding replies, 
but the President added fresh fury to his mortification 
by decisively announcing the next exercise. 

“We shall now listen,” he said, “to the contents of 
the Editor’s Drawer.” 

Judge Skinner had slowly unearthed himself and 
gathered together a package of envelopes. Putting 
on his spectacles he arose with rather a gloomy coun- 
tenance, and still manipulating the bundle, said in his 
most naturally conversational tones : 

“ I’ve got some here, but I can’t say I’m as well 
pleased with this pile as I was with the others. The 
first one is a piece of poetry on ‘ The Seasons.’ There 
ain’t hardly enough stops in it, and some of the words 
might be changed, but it’s a big improvement on some 

of the rest. The writer signs ” Here the Judge 

was puzzled in gender, and stammered for awhile, 
until brightening he proceeded — •“ signs itself ‘ Win- 
ter.’ ” 


Snap. 


109 


‘“THE SEASONS. 

If all the Seasons were to meet, 

And strive each other to defeat 
In a grand contest, to decide 
Which one in all of those that vied 
With one another, did possess 
The finest weather, why I guess 
That Winter would secure the prize, 

And that without the World’s surprise. 

For Spring is awful with its mud, 

It’s only decent for its opening bud. 

Hot Summer’s hateful to all sleepers ; 

It bathes the skins of skinny eaters. 

And makes man measley by mosketters. 
Autumn can’t win, for the plain reason 
It’s not a whole, but half and half season ; 
Because ’tis mixed, as all can see, 

With Winter and Summer in a marked degree. 
So we can only choose from these, 

The one which generally does please 
The world ; and thus ’tis easy to compel 
Stanton to say that Winter does excel.’ ” 


“ Not very metrical,” said Sans-Souci to Ray. 

“ Rather logical, though,” said she. 

“ The next one,” continued the Judge, “ I can’t 
praise. Ever since I was a boy these local and 
national poets have been singin’ about ‘Autumnal 
leaves’ and the ‘ seared leaves’ and the ‘golden leaves,’ 
until I thought they’d never leave off. Snow, too, 


IIO 


Snap . 


has become a favorite. They call it ‘ cold and beau- 
tiful,’ * pure and spotless/ and all that kind of stuff, 
until the thing has got as stale as the ‘ American 
Eagle ’ and the 4 Red, White and Blue.’ I know 
there’s poet licenses, but such things shouldn’t be 
allowed loose any more than unmuzzled dogs. This, 
piece of poetry isn’t so awful bad, but still it comes 
under the general head. It hasn’t any title, which 
you should all remember to put at the top of your 
composition. 


‘ The snow blows, 

The crow crows, 

The hail sails, 

The snail trails. 

Wild winds sighing, 
Lost leaves dying, 
Autumn blows a blast; 
Children singing, 
Church bells ringing, 
Christmas comes at last.’ 


“ I can’t say I admire the ‘ snow blows,’ and so on,” 
criticized the Judge ; “and it’s a little too early and 
hot to talk about ‘ blasts ’ and 4 Christmas ’; still I 
think, on the whole, it’s a great deal better than an- 
other I have here on the 4 Ocean.’ The party that 
mails it says she was at the seashore on an excursion 


Snap. 


ill 


last week, and wrote this poem up for the lyceum, 
thinking it might be of benefit. I don’t know about 
that, however — here’s what she’s got to say : 

‘TO THE OCEAN. 

As here I sit in silent bliss, 

Listening to the ocean’s hiss, 

I often have the mournful thought 
How many lives through it are bought. 

And so I walk along the sand, 

Feeling glad that I’m on land, 

I pick up jelly fish and things, 

And find, like sin, the former stings, 

Whilst to you, as a clam, sin clings. 

I take a bath — the rope I clasp 
And find the sand files like a rasp ; 

I venture out into the surf 

And fill my mouth with salt and turf. 

So is it as with sin, I think, 

When thirsty we attempt to drink — 

For joy, it pains— for aid, it stabs — 

Instead of fun we swallow crabs.’ 


“ Here’s a letter headed ‘ A Dream,’ ” continued 
the Judge, as he stuffed the “ ocean” in his pocket 
without further criticism, not seeming to appreciate 
that article, as did some others in the audience. 


1 12 


Snap. 


“ It’s a simple kind of piece, and I hardly know 
what to think of it.” 

Mr. Editor: — I had a curious dream last Tues- 
day, and I thought I would write out as much as I 
remembered and send it to you, as it might interest 
the lyceum. This is it : 

I thought I was sitting in my office, feeling 
drowsy and tired. My book-keeper was seated to 
my left on a high stool, writing rapidly, and the 
scratch, scratch of his pen made the only noise in the 
room. 

“ Joe,” said I, “ pass me the letters. Is there one 
from Campbell & Son ?” 

“ No, sir,” replied Joe, “ but here is one from Der- 
rit & Co.” 

“ Who are they ?” 

“ Don’t know. The envelope’s stamped with manu- 
facturers of high pressure iron-clad demon ships.” 

“ Something new, I guess.” 

“ I’ve heard something about it. You see, besides 
the common sinker, this vessel proposes to go at the 
rate of seventy-five miles an hour, and rise and fall at 
the touch of a bone button. Rather a good thing, 
isn’t it?” 

“ Yes ; but hang it, with the new patent steam car- 
riages, improved time-keepers, portable flying-ma- 


Snap. 




113 


chines, the hourly editions of the papers, and all 
those things, this world is getting rather fast. Throw 
me the eleven o’clock edition, will you ?” 

So I picked up the sheet Joe threw me, dated 
March 6th, 2507, and lazily reviewed the leaders. 
WASHINGTON NEWS. 

Congress still agitated over the consideration of the Canadian bill. 
Probabilities point to an early admittance, under her old name ; 
Canada agreeing to accept our sexennial term. 

THE WEST. 

Indian City, 9.30 A. M. 

Little Heart died at 8 o’clock. He is believed to be the last full- 
blooded Indian in America, 

SALT LAKE CITY. 

Still another batch of proselytes. Joe Smith’s religion left without 
a leader. 

FOREIGN NEWS. 

England slowly losing ground in India. A Congress of free States 
called. Russia’s partition proceeding slowly and satisfactorily to re- 
publican Poland. Points in the Grecian Senate. President Nousa- 
voun sends France’s greeting to the South American Republic’s Cen- 
tennial. 

ENGLAND. 

The nobility growing more alarmed at the attitude of the Com- 
mons. Speeches lauding the late extinction of the Irish titles. Presi- 
dent McMulligan has sent his congratulations to the speaker. Sence’s 
light introduced in London, and superseding old electric light. Mr. 
Grannock’s expedition to the South pole to start simultaneously with 
American party to the North pole, and meet at Equator. Etc., etc., 
etc. 


Snap . 


1 14 


These, and a hundred more stupendous facts, I 
read nonchalantly, then laid down the paper, and 
said: 

“Joe.” 

“Well, sir?” 

“ Has December’s mail from Mars arrived ? Venus 
came last week, didn’t it ? No orders, were there ?” 

“ No, sir. I went around to the depot and saw the 
crowd of steerage passengers. Odd looking fellows, 
those chaps from Mercury. So tall and powerful, 
you know — none of them under nine feet, and they 
laugh and wink at each other, as if we were dread- 
fully crude, and I guess we are.” 

“ Simply an excursion, wasn’t it ? ” 

“ Yes, that’s all. They got on at Mars, and have 
been six months coming. You ought to see them 
laugh at our electric cars. So slow, you know ; and 
yet four or five centuries ago three hundred 
miles an hour was no fun. Electricity was only 
lightning-rods and telegraph poles then. My, but 
those planetarians must have things snug up there. 
They seem so oppressed, too ; even with the inter- 
planetary atmospheric regulators.” 

“Say, Joe, I got our tickets to the moon — two 
thousand a-piece.” 

“ Were they ? When do you leave ?” 


Snap. 


"5 


“Tuesday, at 8 o’clock. I scarcely think I’ll be 
here again until I return.” 

“ When’s that?” 

“ I really don’t know. In about ten months, I 
guess. Good-bye.” 

Then I thought that I had prepared for my trip ; 
and, with my wife ready and all our baggage, we 
boarded a large flying vessel, more commodious than 
an ocean ship, and fitted up with every convenience. 
People stood around in great numbers, waiting for the 
flight. Then there was a great noise, and we started 
upward like a flash. We were all snugly housed in 
the cabin, garbed in funny costumes with gum tubes 
attached, running from a huge tank which formed the 
breast of the sailing bird, and which was filled 
with air. Our speed grew marvellous. It seemed a 
second only when clouds moistened the heavy glass 
windows, and but a minute or two when the captain 
telegraphed us that we were now leaving the earth’s 
atmosphere. It seemed like a dream, the whole 
voyage. So rapid was the flight, we failed to con- 
ceive we were moving. Everything was still and 
passive, except in the cabin, where we played games 
and whiled away the time. After a long time the 
captain informed us of our entrance into the moon’s 
atmosphere, and soon we descended upon luna firma. 


1 16 


Snap. 


How can I describe the glories of a lunar visit ? 
The mountains, grottoes, deep caverns, lakes, and 
strange scenery of every wild description, are so dif- 
ferent from earthly views, that earthly words would 
fail to picture them. 

We passed an elegant time. The hotels were large, 
and the food, although strange, was still pleasant 
The inhabitants of the moon treated us with great re- 
spect, knowing, of course, that they were merely our 
satellites. From them we learned many facts con- 
cerning the Venusians, Marsians, Jupiterians, As- 
teroidians, and other planetarians. These people, they 
said, knew much more than we of the earth or moon. 
Their language was impossible to understand, and 
they seemed to grasp ideas concerning vast spaces 
with indifference, smiling at our finite labors. Their 
longevity almost embraced infinity, and they appeared 
astonished that our vitality compelled us to cease in- 
vestigations at Mars; for so wonderfully constructed 
were they, that besides having trafficked with the 
entire solar system, they were now fitting out expedi- 
tions to reach the fixed stars. They knew all about 
the sun, and all the languages of our system were 
taught in their colleges. 

There were a great number of Europeans stopping 
at our hotel, and we had quite a jolly time together, 


Snap. 


“7 


hunting and fishing ; and the game there was game. 
No rabbits and robins, but huge, monstrous animals, 
running loose and wild in caverns. 

Altogether, our trip was thoroughly satisfactory, 
and I felt rather sorry when the time arrived for our 
departure. 

‘‘Joe,” said I, when I met him again at the office 
“ you should go too. It was a grand experience.” 

“ I suppose so ; but do you know I thought, when I 
got enough money, I would sell off everything here 
and take up my residence at Venus. I always did 
like women, you know, and an American hair-dress- 
ing establishment there might be a good spec, I 
think.” 

I saw a great many more wonderful things in my 
dream, Mr. Editor, but they were so strange they con- 
fused me, and I have forgotten them. Now, what I 
want to know, sir, is, do you think this is a revelation ? 

The Judge ceased reading, and threw the letter on 
the bench. His face wore a vexed frown, as he crit- 
icised. 

“ Do I think that ‘ Dream’s ’ a revelation ? 

“ Of course I don’t. What do we know about the 
Moon, or stars, or Venus, or Mars ? The idea of peo- 
ple living on them ! Why this is the only place that 
has dirt on it and trees. It has a page in it that I didn’t 


1 18 


Snap. 


read, about the religion of the Moon. Something con- 
cerning those lunatics when they died coming here, 
and when we died going to some other planet in the 
solar system, and then to the next one, and so on, un- 
til we got out into the stars, growing bigger and more 
educated all the time, and at last winding up in the 
Pleiades at the centre of the universe, where Heaven 
is, and where this dreamer thinks we will all be able 
to know everything. Now, it don’t pay to think over 
such stuff as this, and besides it’s unchristian. Still, 
I think, the party that wrote it had a vast deal more 
brains than the one that mailed me this poem on the 
‘ Mule.’ ” 

“ I wonder who sent that * dream,’ ” said Ray to Dick. 

“ One of the professionals, I guess,” he replied. 

“ Don’t you think that is a good idea ? I mean 
about living in the planets when we die,” she asked of 
Sans-Souci. 

“ Consoling at least,” said he. 

“ I want to say a word on this letter,” continued the 
Judge, “ and it deserves a whole sermon. I oughtn’t 
to read it, but as I’m here as an editor, I’ll have to de- 
liver all the contributions. The sense is nothing, its 
nonsense, and the words are too cheap to be used in 
any literary association. I like fun, and know what it 
is as well as any one, but this poem is ridiculous, and 


Snap . 


119 


that’s all I’ve got to say. It’s called ‘ The Mule’s Epi- 
taph,’ and was probably meant for the person that 


wrote it 

‘ Sleep softly where you lie, 0, mule ! 

Sleep softly where you lie ; 

For should you wake, you asinine fool, 

You’d make your leg an assassin’s tool. 

And drop mankind in a welt’ring pool, 

Then dreamily grin, astutely cool, 

Whilst he — the kicked — did die. 

Thus thou would’st be astral, 

By making men see stars; 

Aspiring to assail. 

Assault and assign scars. 

But now the tolling bell, 

Assures us your’e not well, 

But fallen asleep in hell — 

AsyVm for such a sell. 

Let’s cheer the cheerfull knell, 

Assonant and pell-mell ; 

Let’s sink him where he fell, 

Under aster, — asphodel . 

Let’s break the aspic rule 


Of the bad, mad mule.’ ” 

The Judge rendered the poem with such a passive, and 
disgusted air that the effect became perceptible on every 
countenance. Even Shadrick was compelled to laugh 
audibly, whilst the audience at large applauded ve- 
hemently. 


120 


Snap. 


After fumbling again over the envelopes, the Judge 
drew out another very hesitatingly, and then began 
with a forced smile. 

“ All the letters I have got this week are either per- 
sonal, or else vulgar. Now, here’s one about me, which 
I wouldn’t read, only he or she who wrote it might say 
I was mad and wouldn’t. I ain’t mad at all, because 
the thing’s too simple. It’s called “Judge Skinner’s 
Consolation, a Psalm.” 

Notwithstanding the Judge’s protestation as to his 
anger, he certainly appeared vexed. As he stood there, 
over two hundred pounds of irritation, with a frown 
ruffled in his forehead, he looked so bewildered that 
the President grinned. Every one waited in silence, 
and the critic began. 

“ ‘ Why does my stomach, round and fair, 

Excite such mirth here, everywhere ? 

Friends see me in my rocking chair. 

Look at me, smile, and say “all there.” 

But then this gives me ne’er a care, 

Because I think that all this stare 
Is more than leaner men can scare. 

They tell me, I am but a snare 
To trap stray food, but this affair 
Is but my own ; so no despair 
Whilst other cheeky judges dare 
Face public scorn with forms so spare.’ ” 


Snap. 


I 2 1 


The Judge endeavored to make his reading as balky 
and indefinable as possible, but all to no purpose. The 
lyceum smiled, then laughed aloud, and the editor 
sat down in a shower of applause, which drowned his 
finishing declaration, hoisted as an umbrella, that, 
“that ended it.” 

The Rev. Thomas Shadrick now closed the lyceum 
with an appropriate address, cautioning all to remem- 
ber the date of its re-opening, the first Friday in Sep- 
tember. The doxology was sung, the benediction pro- 
nounced, and a rush began for the cool air without; 
all the young people anxious for a stroll along the 
banks of the creek. 

Shadrick hastily gained the scholar’s side, and be- 
gan conversing rapidly. 

“ Well,” said Sans-Souci to Dick and Ray, “ this 
certainly was a treat. And do you actually declare 
it your first visit? Why it’s as bad as the inhabi- 
tants of Egypt refusing to visit the pyramids.” 

“ Isn’t it ?” answered Ray. “ But papa never would 
go, and I had no other attendant.” 

“Strange. Look at the quantity of young men 
here.” 

“ Certainly enough for a body-guard. But can’t 
you and Mr. Ernest walk to the wicket with us? 

The scholar caught Ray’s remarks. 

13 


122 


Snap. 


“I will be with you presently,” he said. “You 
three stroll on slowly.” 

The day had been intensely hot, and now the cool 
night air, using the creek as a refrigerator, was de- 
lightfully exhilarating. Many duets of lovers paced 
the creek’s banks, or were moving on under the wil- 
lows. Dick and Sans-Souci became rivals in caus- 
ing fresh and repeated bursts of laughter from Ray’s 
merry mouth. Soon hurried footsteps, silent in the 
grass, but audible as they now and then struck a 
wayward stone, approached the three, and Ernest’s 
voice exclaimed : 

“ ‘ Procal! O, procul! Este profani'. Why you 
look like spirits.” 

“ So you are here, my Latin fossil, are you ?” said 
Sans-Souci. 

“Yes, at last; though I must say I anticipated a 
night’s talk of it with Mr. Shadrick. He leaves Stan- 
ton on Monday for a vacation of four weeks, and I 
hardly think he wants to go. He was talking to me 
about you continuing your membership at the ly- 
ceum, and grew so prolix I was compelled to leave 
him rather abruptly.” 

“Believing with Shakespeare that ‘a little fire is 
quickly trodden out, which being suffered, rivers can- 
not quench,’ ” laughed Sans-Souci. 


Snap. 


123 


Then the four strolled on and talked, and when the 
wicket was gained no extra pleasure was. 

“ Yes, invite Eva Skinner by all means,” advised 
Dick as they parted. “ She knows the country better 
than any of us, and we lack in females. If your 
friend was only here now, Ray, we would be paired.” 


/ 


CHAPTER IX. 


THE SNAPPED SONG SPLICED. 


The last days of July were hotly passing away and 
Stanton was more blooming and delightful than ever. 
The songsters were still ringing their notes in the 
main street and the creek was growing more attrac- 
tive in its easy flow by the many painted leaf boats 
anchored and riding on its bosom. The woodland 
that edged the landscape became colored by more 
beauty than green, and the white house on the slope 
was fairly screened by bending orchard boughs. 

The people of Stanton still lived, that is, those to 
whom this modest tale relates — the rest were, and are 
dead, to all accounts. Judge Skinner was growing 
stout and old, quite naturally. The five young 
lawyers had been placed at their wit’s end during 
the progress of summer about the correct course to 
be taken to insure a favorable impression upon their 
scarcely tangible body of actual clients and the un- 
wieldy mass of wanted ones. They held a consulta- 
tion and laid before themselves the following facts : 


Snap. 


125 


Actual.— A very limited income. Unlimited ambition and de- 
cided talent to create income from the ghost of an 
opportunity. 

Dilemma. — Is it advisable to remain at Stanton during the sum- 
mer months, braving suspicions of inability to sum- 
mer elsewhere, or forsake Stanton and food for a 
time for the sake of recreating in the mountains as 
hostlers, clerks, or waiters? 

Result. — Upon motion it was agreed to adopt, and immediately 
carry into effect the latter horn. 

Other plans were suggested by the legal cabal to 
favorably impress the community of Stanton; such 
as sudden sickness for six weeks ; complete isolation 
to assuage a violent thirst for legal lore ; hermetical 
seclusion to prepare for professional duties of extreme 
importance, or the hasty display of an ungovernable 
passion to camp out, or starve out, in the woods of 
Stanton. All these were refused adoption, however, 
owing to the suspicious anomaly of five rivals being 
stricken simultaneously with the same eccentric in- 
tent. So they summered in the mountains, chiefly 
from a desire to realize the Pauline definition of faith, 
here changed to lucre — 

“ The substance of things hoped for and the evi- 
dence of things not seen.” 

The “Stanton Weekly” published several glowing 


126 


Snap. 


letters descriptive of life in the Catskills, written on 
contraband hotel paper by the recreating five and 
mailed under cover of night. 

And when they came back ! The next winter saw not 
the terminus of their mountain anecdotes and wild ad- 
ventures, purged of discrepancies in the relating by 
previous and frequent rehearsal. It was a bold stroke, 
truly. 

The three young doctors were far more fortunate 
in their social situations than the legal quintette, being 
able to plead a semi-plausible complaint of urgent 
professional duties. But when artfully asked by Harry 
Skinner “ why they didn’t take turns at going each 
other’s rounds so that they could all get a conge? 
he received no satisfaction but the evasive grunt of 
Gastric that “ medicine wasn’t meant to live on.” 

So the embryo physicians stuck to Stanton, riding 
violently around its environments during the entire 
summer and lamenting at church and picnic, whither 
they strangely managed to struggle through a mass 
of pressing calls, the doctor’s hard fate as the people’s 
servant. It was a matter of some wonder thus to the 
Stanton folks that Dr. Lecrom, their old-established 
physician, could arrange a two weeks’ trip, notwith- 
standing this season of dire disease, but was ex- 
plained in a few hints dropped by Gastric, indicating 


Snap. 


12 7 


a decline in the senior Sawbones’ practice and the ab- 
sorption of that element by the triplet of juniors. 

What had become of the Rev. Thomas Shadrick ? 
Well, let us act the spy. 

It was on one of those hot, blazing, or blazing hot 
afternoons in the rear of July, when the clergyman 
stepped lightly across the rustic bridge, and, turning 
to his left, strolled meditatively along the banks of 
the quiet little creek flanked with willows. He was 
in anything but a calm state of mind, this Stanton 
divine. Not angry at a human being, nor indignant 
at human events, but petulant in the extreme. His 
philosophic education had failed to leave a like 
impress on his temperament, and, as a consequence, 
the Rev. Thomas Shadrick was as prone to the petty 
convulsions of an irritable nature as any of his rustic 
flock; which fact, several of them could substantiate. 
On this particular day he actually frowned, and the 
benignity of the clerical seemed muffled in muffs. 
What could have produced this perturbation of di- 
vinity? 

The answer is a strange one, but true. The Rev. 
Thomas Shadrick had not spent a pleasant vacation. 
Not that he expected an era of ecstacy in the society 
of his aged parents at the old homestead. Not by 
any means ; but then one always wishes to be agree- 


128 


Snap . 


ably disappointed, and this Stanton clergyman had 
not. 

When he sat under the branches of the old oak, 
which centred the lawn of the patrimonial estate, he 
would be unable to separate his thoughts from Stan- 
tonian affairs ; and often when a question, the most 
pointed and plain, was addressed him, would he an- 
swer in the most irrelevant style. 

Thus his aging father said one day : “ Thomas, 

you seem absent-minded and uneasy. Why don’t 
you rouse up, and go to the picnic at Hagey’s woods ? 
Don’t be so infernally in earnest about that Stanton 
charge ; it’s foolish.” 

“ Yes, Ernest's a changed man, and more sociable, 
too,” was the dumbfounding reply of his son. 

Thus he spent his vacation, and at the end of four 
weeks returned almost precipitately to his first love, 
leaving his astonished parents in grave doubt and 
wonder. 

We left him walking slowly along the creek. 
Let us regain his side, and witness a curious coinci- 
dence. Arriving at the very spot at which he had 
formerly formed the audience to the scholar’s song of 
the “ Brook,” he stopped, as if struck by an idea, and 
pondered; then, odd to relate, began singing that 
identical air himself, with a vivacity that by no means 


Snap. 


129 


did injustice to the distant genius of Tennyson. He 
warmed in his work, forgot himself, was actually 
growing boisterous, and had just reached that de- 
lightful refrain, 

“ I chatter, chatter, as I flow,” 

when he suddenly became conscious of an approach- 
ing shadow, then a dim outline, and at last a smiling 
substance, which extended its hand, and said, in 
scholarly accents : 

“ Good afternoon, sir. It seems, I am here to re- 
veal the truth of that adage, to err is human ; seeing 
that the noble spirit of Stanton creek has overcome 
the clerical scruples of one who hesitated, a few 
weeks ago, to mar its delightful calm by his ‘ harsh 
practice ’ ” 

It was now the ^vine’s time to blush, and he did it 
with interest. The discovery, the similarity of situa- 
tions, and the repaid compliment, caused him to wilt ; 
but, instantly recalling his wits, he burst into laugh- 
ter, and gaily replied, whilst shaking hands : 

“ I acknowledge the equity of your reproof, Mr. 
Ernest, but call quits, and request forbearance since 
the sin was mutual ; so let us constitute ourselves 
a committee on the case, and simply decide to avoid a 

repetition.” 

14 


130 


Snap. 


“No, no/' laughed Ernest, “that is entirely un- 
necessary. Let us rather combine our talents and 
produce improved results. But,” he added, “it was 
rather an odd circumstance, this chance espionage of 
ours. Same spot, ditto music, ditto diffidence. Sin- 
gular indeed; and, to cap it all, I was homeward- 
bound from the same place as before — * Willows.’ ” 

“ Hold ! ” laughingly broke in the divine ; “ that is 
not the termination of the analogy, for I hold the 
climax. Know, then, that I was on the same mission 
now as then, namely — nothing. A stroll constituted 
the main interest of both.” 

“Well,” remarked Ernest, “seeing we are here 
again, how have you spent the interval — your vaca- 
tion ? 

The clergyman’s face fell. 

“ O, like all vacations,” he said, “ pleasantly, because 
of the change. I visited my parents, and of course in- 
dulged in little gaiety. How have you and your friends 
passed the time ? ” 

“Principally at ‘Willows,’ picnics, boating excur- 
sions and so forth. The others are off somewhere now, 
I really forget the point they started for, being busily 
engaged talking to the Colonel. He and Sin have 
been fairly convulsing Sans. By the way, we have 
had another curious coincidence at ‘ Willows ’ during 


Snap. 


131 


your absence, quite as singular as Sans^ acquaintance 
with Dick. Ray’s old schoolmate, Miss Gertie Hart, 
came on to visit her according to promise, and when 
Sans-Souci met her he discovered that his sister was in 
Stanton. You know his name is Edwin Hart.” 

“ Strange, indeed; and must have startled you. - Is 
she there still ? ” 

“ O, yes ; she, Ray, and Eva Skinner walked off 
with Harry, Dick, and Sans somewhere.” 

“ Does the Colonel accompany you on your excur- 
sions ? ” 

“ Occasionally. He took Sin and the lexicon into 
the woods last week and 'entered into the spirit of a 
picnic ; but accidentally tumbled into the creek whilst 
stooping to get a water-lily. Sans pulled him out, 
and he can’t thank him enough. 

“ ‘ Saved my life, Mr. Hart; certainly did. Don’t 

deny it, sir, but accept my, ah, ah, my, ah Sin ! 

my , not sympathy, you ass , thanks ! Yes, 

sir; accept my sincere thanks, Mr. Hart.’ ” 

“ Very eccentric gentleman, indeed. Who is that ?” 

Ernest looked in the direction of the clergyman’s 
gaze, and saw a small group approaching them by the 
line of the creek. Three white dresses denoted the 
presence of a female trio, and the scholar’s gray eyes 
discovered the faces of Miss Eva Skinner, Ray Stan- 


132 


Snap. 


ton and her friend, Miss Gertie Hart. Three others 
garbed male-like, attended these, nor was it strange 
that brother and sister walked not together. Still the 
combination lacked perfection. Harry and Ray, Dick 
and Gertie, Sans-Souci and Eva. What’s the matter 
with it? 

These three nymphs were gew-gawed with ferns and 
wild laurel, trailing arbutus, and honey-suckle. They 
were walking conservatories, and it was a puzzle to the 
clergyman and the scholar whether the structure did 
not give tone to the botany. As the sextette approached 
nearer, so did the sound of merriment, and Shadrick’s 
face brightened with a newsome delight. No wonder 
he spent a dreary vacation. 

This group seemed a most happy one. Ray was 
all life and sparkle ; she appeared as if suddenly un- 
caged. Sans-Souci was a medium, not in the spiritu- 
alistic sense, but in the flow of spirits. Half and half, 
gay and serious. His sister, Gertie, was not precisely 
sedate, yet one of those very enjoyable persons so nec- 
essary to enjoyable society, who are content to listen 
and be pleased at the efforts of others, though able to 
do much better themselves. Dick’s was the disposition 
of his sister Ray, only more extensively developed. 
Lively, witty, and ever cheerful, he had a friend in the 
person of every acquaintance. 


Snap. 


33 


“ Well, did you meet with any new attractions ? ” in- 
quired the scholar of Sans-Souci. 

“New attractions? Yes, indeed. Though I cer- 
tainly wished no more,” answered Sans-Souci. “ The 
old attractions could command our interest forever,” 
he continued, smiling at the three white dresses, or 
their occupants. 

“ Quite a compliment,” laughed the Colonel’s pet, 
archly, “ to be called old by a stranger.” 

“ Certainly not one to be called a stranger , when one 
regards himself as a friend,” retorted Sans, in a hidden 
tone which drew a blush from Ray. 

“ Did you enjoy your vacation, Mr. Shadrick ? ” 
asked Dick. 

“ O, yes,” replied the divine, grimly “Though I of- 
ten wished myself in Stanton, to engage in your pic- 
nics.” 

“ Probably you would have censured our levity,” sug- 
gested Gertie. 

“ I presume it was decorous, and I am far from be- 
ing a prude,” said he hastily, as if anxious to dissi- 
pate any consciousness of his profession from their 
minds. 

“ What would you say to wine and cake, or danc- 
ing on the lawn ?” asked Sans-Souci with a smile. 

The divine looked puzzled. 


134 


Snap. 


“ I sometimes imagine that association need not 
imply participation, and you know where ignorance 
is bliss,” he said. 

“Accessory to the act” tersely observed Harry 
Skinner, whose conversation occasionally denoted ac- 
quaintance with the five young lawyers. 

“ Where ignorance is bliss, hey ?” repeated Dick 
with a grin. “ Lose your pocket-book and be igno- 
rant of its new quarters, and the amount of bliss dis- 
played will be rather microscopic.” 

“Well,” observed Sans-Souci, “ innocent pleasures 
need no vindication. I shall never apologize for en- 
joying myself. The person who permits his better 
nature, his humanity, to assert itself and make him a 
sociable being, and then afterwards proceeds to suffer 
chagrin and steel himself to earthly attractions by 
that inhuman process called mortification, deserves 
neither praise nor sufferance as he severs the social 
link and proves traitor to reason.” 

The divine said nothing, but his face brightened 
with a half fearful endorsement of Sans-Souci’s phi- 
losophy. 

As the group sauntered along towards “Wil- 
lows,” the scholar as if, and probably it was, by acci- 
dent, took Sans’ position at Eva Skinner’s side, whilst 
Sans engaged the clergyman in conversation. 


Snap. 


135 


“ I would by no means advise,” he said, “ the adop- 
tion of the sailor’s song — 

‘ Take in good measure 
All kinds of pleasure, 

Enjoy at our leisure 
Whate’er we list ’ — 

as our rule of conduct throughout life ; neither do I 
regard it as wise or necessary to macerate the flesh 
in order to lead a moral and religious life. The stoic 
is to be shunned as an example, equally with the 
epicure ; or if either is to be followed, I prefer the 
latter.” 

Thus the two talked on, and soon the conversation 
turned to the town of Stanton. 

“Yes, very true,” broke in the clergyman at the 
close of a tirade of his companion against the oppo- 
nents of true reformation and improvement — “very 
true indeed ; but how do you propose to aid the con- 
dition of Stanton ? What does she need, for instance ? 
I don’t say desire, because the town seems perfectly 
satisfied.” 

“ There’s the miserable obstacle. Because the in- 
habitants are happy in the nineteenth century they 
selfishly fail to think of the twentieth. What should 
be done here, if nothing else, would be to instil a 
certain American trait in the character of your youth, 


136 


Snap. 


without which they are not truly Americans. I’ve 
heard it called ‘ snap,’ and the West lives on it.” 

“ Well, but what do you propose for the improve- 
ment of Stanton ?” repeated Shadrick, with a half- 
smile, as if enjoying his companion’s vagaries. 

“ Oh, innumerable additions. I do not ask for a dis- 
play of originality on her part ; far from it. It is not 
necessary. Let her simply follow the footsteps of 
her neighbors. I do not wish to model her from 
Utopia. Let her improvements, whatever they be, be 
truly practical and substantial — no manufacturing, 
commune, or socialistic experiments. If you ask for 
samples of improvements, visit a city and note its 
chief conveniences. 

“Stanton has no town -hall, and consequently is ig* 
norant of the attractions, the educational attractions, 
to be derived from lectures and a multitude of enter- 
tainments attendant upon the erection of such a build- 
ing. It has no public library, and here again it misses 
a most valuable advantage to the mental improve- 
ment of its inhabitants. Its streets might be paved, 
lamp-posts erected, its houses repainted. It is but a 
short distance from the railroad ; and had its inhabi- 
tants the necessary energy or snap, they could soon 
obtain for it the notice and attention it deserves, both 
as an agricultural centre and as a county town. For a 


Snap. 


137 


summer resort Stanton is superbly adapted. Why 
not construct a hotel or advertise its advantages? 
Then your personal comfort. There is a carpet of dust 
two inches deep on your streets ; why not introduce a 
sprinkler and save your houses, clothes, and health ? 
Improvements ? Why the field is a most extensive 
one. There are hundreds of conveniences which 
properly belong to Stanton.” 

“ No doubt of it, my dear sir ; but how shall it ob- 
tain them ? There are very few moneyed men here.” 

“ Use one thing to produce another. First, get a 
town-hall. How? you ask. I would crudely sug- 
gest the employment of the young people’s energy. 
Awaken their snap , and you have what you want. 
Let the few men of means donate all they possibly 
can — a good investment for them — and then proceed 
to the collection of the residue by concerts, lectures, 
fairs — anything. Why does the church not enter the 
list ? Nothing could be more truly Christian. With 
the hall erected, then use it for the creation of other 
improvements. Grace its rooms with a public library. 
Thus gradually advancing, Stanton would fail to recog- 
nize itself in a few years. The outside world would 
be attracted ; nay, capitalists would readily invest in 
such schemes themselves if they saw how excel- 
lently you were situated. It is no chimera, for the 

15 


138 


Snap. 


history of America is simply this idea enhanced. 
Look West, and we see cities now where several 
years ago only a few miners were assembled in huts. 
What does this? Precisely what Stanton lacks — 
snap.” 

“ You should devote your attention to the embodi- 
ment of that idea here,” remarked Shadrick as Sans- 
Souci ended. • 

They had now gained the crest of the hill, and were 
but a few steps from the house. These two had 
loitered behind the rest, who were seated on the 
veranda chatting gaily. 

“ What has it been ? theology ?” inquired Dick as 
they joined the group. “ Do you know that we have 
framed a grandly novel programme for to-morrow ?” 

“ Ah ?” said the divine, smiling with pleasure. “ I 
feel assured that I can enter with great gusto into any 
frolic framed by this assembly.” 

“ Divinely said, and I hope religiously true,” laughed 
Ray. 

“ ‘ List, oh, list,’ ” exclaimed Dick, “ whilst I di- 
vulge ” 

“ ‘ I could a tale unfold,’ ” prompted Gertie. 

“ Hush ye, whilst I divulge,” continued Dick, 
“to these two laggards a plan whose peer has ne’er 
been framed in the brain of man. Know, then, that 


Snap . 


139 


on the morrow, when in the east the sun is painting 
clouds of red and white, a chosen band of Stanton 
youth, garbed in festive colors or otherwise, plunged 
in the cushioned depths of the warrior Stanton’s ances- 
tral vehicle, and bearing with them mattresses, a tent, 
and the fat of the land, will gaily trot to that shady 
patch of bristling woods vulgarly denominated ‘ Lake.’ 
There, with joyous shouts and silvery laughter, will 
they pitch their tent, arrange their mattresses, and 
make provision for their provender. A day of fun 
and boating, or sun and loafing, will then, perchance, 
present itself, and when gloomy Nox shall spread his 
black overcoat over the vicinity of ‘Lake Woods’ 
will cards and song or stories long chance in to 
make the picnic bon .” 

“Well, Dick, I’m ashamed of you,” laughed Ray. 
“ Why didn’t you simply say we were going to tent 
over-night at ‘ Lake Woods ’ ? ” 

“ Because, my dear, it would be too prosy a presen- 
tation of such a poetic idea. Don’t you think so, 
Sans?” 

“ Quite an excellent plan,” lie endorsed. 

“ Certainly a novel one,” the divine said. 

So it was arranged. Ernest was to conduct Eva ; 
Dick and Gertie selected each other at a glance ; Sans- 
Souci was talking most naturally to Ray about the 


140 


Snap. 


hour they should start, and the Rev. Thomas Shad- 
rick and Harry Skinner stood mateless. 

“Well,” said Harry. “I shall make my presence 
appreciated by rowing your boats, building your fire, 
eating your luncheon, and all that kind of thing. 
You’ll miss me if I’m drowned.” 

“Oh, Harry!” exclaimed Eva in horror. 

Shadrick looked wofully at Ray, and when she 
smiled back, his mind was .made up, but he said hesitat- 
ingly, “ As this is not a camp-meeting, I fail to see of 
what service I may be, except it is to wash dishes 
and preside at meals.’' 

“ Oh, ” exclaimed Dick quickly, whose sympathy 
was aroused by his own pleasant arrangements, 
“ don’t be alarmed. We will scarcely be so seclusive 
as to prevent each one enjoying the other’s society, 
unless Ernest and Miss Eva decide otherwise.” 

The scholar looked actually alarmed, whilst Eva 
crimsoned. 

“ Dick ! ” chided Ray. 

“ Look to yourself, dear,” he laughed. 

“ Is this the Colonel ? ” inquired the divine, glad to 
end Dick’s bantering. 

Coming slowly up the avenue was a light carriage 
drawn by two lazy horses, and ensconced in the seat 
were the Colonel and Sin. On the latter’s lap lay his 


Snap. 


141 


“Worcester,” and he glanced most dismally at the 
group on the veranda. Sin used to be, and was dor- 
mancy yet, a wild, rollicking boy, but his solemn 
employment had made him as sedate as the volume he 
carried with him. The Colonel was as severely good- 
looking as ever, and seemed rapt in meditation, driv- 
ing absently by the group on the porch, until Dick 
shouted to him to stop. 

“ Why, are you still here, Ernest ? ” he exclaimed in 
a surprised tone. “ I thought you had left. Sin and 
I took a ride to the spring, but it’s infernally dusty. 
How are you, Mr. Shadrick.” 

Ernest explained his chance return, and the irre- 
pressible Richard joined in with a hurried account of 
the projected jaunt on the morrow, and an invitation 
to the same. 

“ No, no! I go along, indeed! Why the idea’s, ah, 
ah ” 

“ Absurd, idiotic, fool ” prompted Sin. 

“ Yes, absurd. No, indeed, we can’t go ; hey, Sin.” 

Poor Sin wouldn’t think of saying yes, and, as he 
had grown accustomed to affirming the Colonel’s de- 
cisions, he refrained from vetoing this one, only smiling 
a low “ No, sir.” 

“ Can’t you go with us to ‘ Lake Woods,’ and then 
drive the team back, Papa ? ” asked Ray ; “ because it 


142 


Snap. 


might rain at night if we left them out in the fields.” 

This request seemed more reasonable to the Colo- 
nel, and he said he would consider it. 

“ What attracts you there ?” he bluntly inquired of 
the divine. 

“ Nothing in particular; merely a wish to recreate.” 

“ If I go, then, you can return with Sin, and me,” sug- 
gested the soldier, as though struck by a brilliant idea ; 
but the crowd negatived it, much to Shadrick’s relief. 

“ Well, we will see,” he added, gathering up the 
reins again. “ Think it over, and, ah — ah ” 

“ Decide, determine, re .” 

“ And decide to-morrow morning.” 

“ Poor Sin ! ” said Dick, as the carriage turned the 
corner of the building.” “ It strikes me he would rel- 
ish a picnic more than a meal.” 

“ Not alone with Papa, though,” corrected Ray. 

So they chatted on till dusk, and so jolly seemed the 
minutes that, when Eva pressingly requested all to 
spend the evening at her home, none refused 


CHAPTER X. 


GINGER-SNAPS AND WINE. 


Dick Stanton had said the picnic would begin when 
the sun “ painted the clouds red and white.” Never 
had that orb begun his artistic labors on a more glo- 
rious morning. As the streaks of light straggled over 
the misty hills, and shone dimly on “ Willows,” they 
awoke the dreaming birds and set the merry multitude 
into a chorus of song. 

Judge Skinner had ever regarded himself as a 
weather-prophet, and when, the evening before, as he 
stood among his group of merry visitors and scanned 
with the thoughtful eyes of a connoisseur the starry fir- 
mament, sniffing the lazy air, he assured them they 
would “ have a snap of good weather to-morrow,” — 
when he did this, the Judge augured truly. 

That evening had witnessed curious things, anyhow. 
We have mentioned that the Judge bore but little love 
towards his pastor. We have also given the reason. 
Yet, strange to say, before the evening was spent, his 

143 


144 


Snap. 


judicial sternness was actively engaged in earnest con- 
versation with the divine, and — as we are aware 
that this act might be performed by the strictest ene- 
mies — he seemed so thoroughly to have enjoyed his 
talk that Mrs. Skinner was little surprised to hear him 
remark that “ Shadrick was a whole-hearted man, any- 
how, and didn’t mean to be conceited.” 

As we remarked before, the sun was kindly starting 
to frame these Stanton tenters a most pleasant and sum- 
mery day. Eva and Harry Skinner had eaten their 
morning meal, their patient mother had prepared their 
basket of tempting viands, and they were standing on 
the porch, ready to join Shadrick, Ernest, and Sans- 
Souci. 

“ So you’re going to spend the night in that tent, 
are you ? ” asked the Judge, coming out in his dress- 
ing-gown and slippers, accompanied by Mrs. Skinner, 
who seemed as anxious for the welfare of her children 
as though they were going on the most extended tour. 
“ Well, be careful of yourselves ; and, Harry, don’t you 
try to upset the boat on that lake.” 

“ Will it be damp in the tent?” timidly inquired 
Mrs. Skinner, trying to conceal any appearance of 
anxiety in her tone of voice. 

“ Oh, no,” said Harry carelessly; “ we are going to 
take mattresses and all that sort of thing. You know 


Snap. 


145 


the Colonel kept the tent from the war, and Dick 
says it’s mighty comfortable.” 

Mrs. Skinner gave a sigh of relief, whilst the Judge 
walked to the end of the porch and viewed the 
eastern horizon. 

“ A jolly day for it,” he predicted. 

“ Here they come !” exclaimed Eva, as the scholar, 
divine, and Sans-Souci hove in sight through the in- 
terstices of the trees. The latter persisted in reliev- 
ing Harry of the basket, which for him was certainly 
a load, whilst Sans-Souci hung it carelessly on his 
arm and scarcely deigned to acknowledge the bur- 
den by a bend. The clergyman took his station by 
his side, Eva walking on between Ernest and Harry, 
and they soon passed beyond the range of Mrs. 
Skinner’s anxious gaze. 

“ I sounded the Judge last evening, Mr. Hart,” said 
Shadrick, as they pursued the path of the creek, “ and 
was surprised to find him inclined to favor any pro- 
jects which might tend to improve Stanton.” 

“ Is that so ? Well, I certainly expected at least 
neutrality from him.” 

“Yes, I did too. Now, suppose you were promised 
general co-operation, what would be your first step ?” 

“ I scarcely know myself. How would a notice in 
your ‘ Weekly ’ do, calling a meeting of citizens to 

16 


146 


Snap . 


consider such plans, etc., for the welfare of Stanton as 
may be there presented ?” 

“ Capital ! I know Lawrence, the editor, would 
favor any such idea, and puff it.” 

“Well, it will be strange to me if every man in 
Stanton doesn’t enter heartily into it, as he will as- 
suredly be benefiting himself thereby.” 

“Very true.” 

Talking thus, they soon reached “Willows,” and 
found Ray, Gertie, and Dick awaiting them on the 
veranda. 

“ Guess what Dick proposes ? ” said Ray when they 
had all seated themselves. 

“Something extravagant, I divine,” answered the 
scholar. 

“ More than that : he wanted to know whether we 
wouldn’t prefer a hay-wagon to a dearborn.” 

“ Would we ?” inquired Ernest. 

“ It would be awfully .” 

“Horrid,” interrupted Ray to Harry Skinner’s 
affirmative vote. “ Don’t you think so, Eva ? I know 
Gertie does.” 

“ Rough on our dresses,” assented Eva. 

“ Of course we’d put seats in it,” Dick explained. 

“ Suppose it should rain ?” Sans-Souci asked. 

“ We’d get wet,” concluded Ray. 


Snap. 


14 7 


“ Then let it be a dearborn/’ said Dick. 

“ What’s that ?” a voice inquired, and the Colonel 
stepped out from a window, clad in white duck pants 
and vest and blue cheviot coat, with his handsome 
face shaded under a huge sombrero. “ Here I am, 
Sin, on the porch.” 

“Why,” explained Dick, “we were just discussing 
the relative advantages of a hay-wagon and a dear- 
born as vehicles for our conveyance to Lake Woods.” 

“ Well, all I’ve got to say is, that you can’t persuade 
me a hay-wagon’s fit to ride in. A dearborn’s — 
ah — ah ” 

“ Inconvenient, agony ” prompted poor Sin, 

who rarely failed to guess the Colonel’s meaning. 

“That’s it — agony. A dearborn’s agony enough. 
Ha, ha !” 

“ Well, then,” said Dick, “ I’ll give John orders to 
bring it here instanter. Old Tempus is fugiting fu- 
riously.” 

“ Why, yes,” confirmed Shadrick, scanning his 
watch ; “ it is nearly half-past six.” 

The dearborn, which had so ingloriously defeated 
the hay-wagon, was a commodious and rather com- 
fortable vehicle of four seats. The mattresses, tent, 
and provisions, minus the Skinner donation, had been 
sent to Lake Woods some time before, giving the men 


148 


Snap. 


an opportunity to arrange these things for the recep^ 
tion of the tenters. 

There seemed to be a preference for the back seat 
or even seats, which was studiously concealed by all, 
and yet was visible. 

“ Get in, get in,” urged the Colonel. “ Sin and I 
will take the front seat. Hey, Sin ?” 

So Dick and Gertie scrambled to the rear, leaving 
the rest to arrange themselves by twos and threes, 
with Sin and the Colonel in front. 

Handing the reins to the latter, John shouted an 
encouraging “ Get up ! ” to the two bays, and off they 
started down the avenue. 

Wending their way along the creek, they crossed 
the rustic bridge, struck the pike, and sped on towards 
the group of misty woods smoking in the North. A 
pike is rough riding, and rough riding is another term 
for noise ; so the Colonel remained silent and pleased, 
as riding and talking was to him a disagreeable possi- 
bility. Conversation became general in the back seats, 
and Shadrick outshone himself in repartee with Dick, 
whilst Ray spiced each remark with her merry laugh. 

After a time the clergyman drew the skeleton of a 
sermon from his inner pocket and began perusing it, 
leaving Dick and Gertie to conduct their conversation 
in a lower key. Harry Skinner leaned chari 'cably for- 


Snap. 


149 


ward and struck up a rambling talk with the delighted 
Sin, thus abandoning his sister Eva to the scholar’s care, 
Whilst Sans-Souci and Ray followed the example of 
Dick and Gertie. 

Certainly they enjoyed themselves, for there was 
neither halt nor recess in their talk until the Colonel 
warned them of their arrival by his military “ Whoa !” 
The divine had noticed nothing during the drive, his 
eyes being rivetted on his skeletoned sermon ; and yet 
Sin was certain he never turned a page or made a 
line of progress. Poor Shadrick ! The man who spoke 
of improving Stanton’s social and in&ustrial system 
seemed not to improve his peace of mind. Did he 
stand between the divine and his divinity ? 

A Ray of it, anyhow, Dick thought afterwards. 

The drive, had those in the last seat seen it, was 
through a most lovely prospect. Everything was 
there to make a model view — meadow, hill, and fields 
of grain. Now and then the dearborn ran along with 
the creek, then they parted, until suddenly it rum- 
bled over a rustic bridge, telling of another meeting. 
They passed by the railroad, too, and the Colonel 
smiled as he checked the snorting bays, worried at the 
scream of a racing train. The air was deliciously cool, 
and the sun was lazily chasing the mist from their path. 
Sin was jubilant, and the boy began to shine through 


Snap. 


150 


the solemnity of the dictionary, whilst the bracing air 
stirred the blood in Harry Skinner’s face, causing him 
to beat time to a jig on the floor of the wagon. 

“There’s the tent,” he said to Sin, as they entered 
a patch of woods, through which shone the bluish sur- 
face of a calm sheet of water. “ Doesn’t the lake look 
still?” 

The dearborn halted in answer to the Colonel’s au- 
thoritative “Whoa ! ” and those on the back seats ex- 
claimed, almost in chorus, “ Are we here ?” 

“ Why, it scarcely seemed a mile to me,” said Ray, 
unconsciously. 

“ Engaged , I suppose?” teased Dick, and Shadrick 
winced at Ray’s blush. 

The tent looked hospitable and inviting, although 
somewhat yellowed. Several men were laboring 
around it, tightening the ropes and digging a ditch. 
The baskets and mattresses had been conveyed to the 
tent, which had been pitched on a soft bank of moss, 
over which rugs had been thrown, making a carpet as 
yielding as the Turk’s. Inside there were two apart- 
ments, fore and aft ; the latter was devoted to Ray, Eva, 
and Gertie, whilst the male squad guarded in the front. 
It had all been arranged by a practised eye, and the 
little stretch of canvas looked truly comfortable. The 


Snap. 


I5i 


Colonel stood around and gave valuable hints, whilst 
the three girls attended to the baskets. 

“ Let us take a view of this wonderful lake,” said 
Sans-Souci to Ray, when everything seemed arranged. 
“ I am rather anxious to see your marvel.” 

“ Come on, then,” challenged she, “ and prepare your- 
self to properly express your admiration.” 

It was now nearing eight o’clock, and the sun was 
rapidly drinking up the dew. The Colonel threw him- 
self on a grass-plat and gave himself up to meditation — 
with him the sure token of sleep. Sin, freed from lex- 
icon duties, joined the men who had erected the tent, 
and was soon busily engaged in unharnessing the 
horses and otherwise enjoying himself. The rest stroll- 
ed through the intervening trees and gained the verge 
of the lake. 

This sheet of clear azure water, stretching a hun- 
dred yards to the north, and twice that distance to the 
east, with frequent breakages and bays, claimed the 
name of “ Blue Lake.” Every inhabitant of Stanton 
and the villages for miles around had seen and won- 
dered at this curiosity — curious because of the rumored 
fact that no one had yet been able to sound its depths. 
It was bottomless. One old man, a farmer anchored, 
near by, had expended, it was said, over two dollars on 
thick, stout twine, and rowing to the centre of the lake 


152 


Snap. 


had dropped the end, fastened to a large stone, and gra- 
dually unreeled its entire length, preserving it taut 
until exhausted, but failed to reach the bottom. Su- 
perstition clothed this bluish sheet with many a fanci- 
ful story. Some said it was the fiery lake, without ac-> 
counting for the fire’s absence. Others held it to be 
an avenue for evil spirits to ascend from the infernal 
abodes, and ghosts had been actually witnessed walk- 
ing on its awful surface. Children and old women 
shunned its sides at night and glanced furtively at it in 
day. 

By one of those strange contradictions in nature, 
which no one can solve, this lake, so unpropitious to 
age and infancy, was acknowledged beneficent and pe- 
culiarly favorable to every vow of love made by its 
side. Here, in summer, when the sun’s light had slowly 
faded from twilight to evening, seated on the grassy 
side of the lake, mounted on some adjacent rock, or 
resting idly on its bosom under the shadow of the leafy 
trees, would lovers often tell the finis of their romance ; 
and it became to these rustic minds a truth that every 
such proposal made would end in a happy marriage. 
Hence the invitation, “ Let us walk to Lake Woods ” 
grew to mean, “ Will you be my wife?” and he be- 
came a rejected suitor to whom a refusal was returned. 

“ Isn’t it beautiful ? ” said Ray. 


Snap. 


153 


- Do you know I love calm views ?” the divine af- 
firmed. “ The rough, rocky sides of a great chasm or 
the pell-mell rush of a Niagara is majestic and sub- 
lime, but the sweet quiet of a forest and meadow, or 
even the monotony of a wide river, is far more conge- 
nial to me.” 

“ Oh, it isn’t to me,” exclaimed Gertie. “ The wilder 
the scenery is, the better I like it. Don’t you love 
thunder-storms, Ray ? ” 

“ Love them ? Why, Gertie ! Ask Dick, and he’ll 
tell you how often he used to hunt for me when one 
was coming up.” 

“ And find you in the cellar trying to squeeze in 
the larder,” interrupted Dick. 

Whether by accident or not, these eight pleasure- 
seekers strolled gradually apart, probably dividing 
their forces to seek greater attractions. Ray and 
Sans-Souci walked slowly round the lake, and gained 
the opposite side from their place of encampment. 
Eva said she knew the spot where the tallest tree in 
the county stood, thus exciting Ernest’s curiosity to 
such an ungovernable pitch that off they started to 
view the monster. Gertie and Dick had winged their 
flight to the north, following the creek to where, Dick 
said, could be seen a sulphur spring of ineffable at- 
tractions. Where was Shadrick? In the cold, it 
17 


154 


Snap. 


seemed ; and all that was ever known of his stroll that 
morning came from the scant information furnished 
by Harry Skinner, who said he had seen the reverend 
gentleman stretched under the elastic arms of a beach, 
fanning himself with his Mackinaw, for by ten o’clock 
it was hot. As for Harry himself, he was engaged in 
a multitude of pursuits until lunch. At that time he 
reported having carved his name on ten trees, with an 
anchor under each, and his monogram on five rocks. 
He had also, with the help of Sin and the men, at- 
tacked and eventually overcome one hornets’ and two 
bumble-bees’ nests. Harry was eighteen years of age, 
but was sensible enough to be a boy when he felt 
like it. 

Every one will admit he or she has attended a pic- 
nic — just one. To be candid, the writer would scarce 
wish to know that person who had not. The fact 
would brand the party as unsocial or unfit to asso- 
ciate with. Let it be a nutting-party, or, greater than 
all, a Sunday-school picnic. Why, they are as old as 
the rocks. Look at the jolly times Mark Antony 
had with Cleopatra on the Nile, or the little parties 
Cicero gave at his villas. Let this be granted, and 
our conclusion is easy and admissible by all that a 
description — a faithful, accurate, technical description — 
of all the minor incidents of such an event is impos- 


Snap. 


155 


sible to a general historian. So, at least, do we re- 
gard it ; and furthermore, our scruples as to divulg- 
ing secrets would prevent us, if nothing else, from 
detailing too explicit an account of this tenting ex- 
cursion to Lake Woods. 

What, for instance, did Sans-Souci say to Ray as 
he lazily lay at her feet under the shadow of Lake 
Rock, a massive pile whose summit peered timor- 
ously into the waters below? We really don’t know, 
but would suggest — ay, wager — it was pleasant ; else 
what meant Ray in blushing so and sending vague 
darts of sweet content from her happy brown eyes as 
she aimlessly plucked to pieces the honeysuckles 
Sans-Souci had gathered for her, letting fall the frag- 
ments in his hand, unwittingly extended as their 
saviour ? Once, when he seemed speaking pointedly 
and fast, there was a noise from the summit of the rock 
which caused Ray to start nervously and sent Sans’ 
eyes in search of the cause. 

“ Some pieces of rock falling,” he impatiently ex- 
plained. 

But as every effect must have a cause, so with the 
falling ro.ck ; for a clerical form walked hastily away 
in the tall grass and bushes, with head bowed down 
and a look as blue as the lake. 

Or, again, in what were Dick and Gertie so inter- 


156 


Snap. 


ested that they should linger towards the north at a 
small sulphur spring until noon ? We don’t know, 
but probably it was the spring itself, because Gertie 
told Sans-Souci at lunch that the views there were 
“ perfectly lovely.” Then, again, Ernest and Eva. 
They had gone to survey the tallest tree in the county, 
but Harry informed Gertie it was but half a mile from 
the tent, so why needed they four hours for the round 
trip ? 

Did the scholar climb the great tree for a bird’s nest ? 
Certainly not No one is anxious to be so agilely ri- 
diculous in the presence of an interesting brunette. 
Did he cut Eva’s name and his own on this giant oak ? 
We impatiently repeat, we do not know. 

We confess, however, to being acquainted with the 
morning pursuits of one or two of these tenters. 

The Reverend Thomas Shadrick had early stretch- 
ed himself under the inviting branches of a beech, and 
lay dreaming there, with his skeletoned sermon tossed 
idly by his side. One would almost have thought the 
ghostly lake would grow abashed at his steady gaze. 
Sometimes his stare was directed to a high rock pro- 
jecting from the hill on the opposite side. This was 
known as Lake Rock, and its crest commanded a mag- 
nificent view to the east and south. So attractive 
seemed this bulky ledge to the clergyman that sud- 


Snap. 


5 7 


denly he sprang to his feet, and walking hastily around 
the edge of the lake arrived at the base of the hill and 
briskly commenced its ascent. The divine was a prac- 
tical man, anyhow, and it was probably owing to 
this, that instead of directing his steps in a straight 
line for the summit of the hill, he walked at rather a 
large angle, evidently desiring to avoid its steepness. 

His was a very elastic step, and so noiseless, too ! 
An Indian scout could scarce have approached his vic- 
tim in a more silent way. He gained the top of the rock 
and stood drinking in the scene below. There were 
the lake, the woods, and, almost lost in its embrace, 
the tent ; whilst to the east flowed on a sea of fields. 
So here he stood, an immovable statue, as if absorbed 
in listening. Listening to what ? How do we know ? 
And still more perplexing was the fact that his face 
was as pale as the feathery clouds above him, although 
the air had now grown close and the sun was shining 
hotly. He wore a heavy frown, and yet the scene 
would bring a smile to lips less human than a clergy- 
man’s. He seemed nervous too, and once his foot 
slipped, sending a mass of broken rock and gravel 
down the declivity. This appeared to waken him from 
his meditation, and he walked briskly away, but noise- 
lessly as before. And, now we think of it, there was 
nothing strange in this at all ; for, having reached the 


58 


Snap. 


r 


base again, he leisurely regained his former station 
under the spreading beech, and seemed truly surprised 
at finding there his forsaken sermon. Evidently he 
had never viewed the lake from Lake Rock. 

Now he appears to have imbibed a thought from his 
late tramp, for his pencil is slowly traversing a blank 
leaf of the skeleton. His face is less pale, and occa- 
sional flushes dart across' it. This will no doubt be 
a very poetical sermon. But his impatience again 
displays itself, as he suddenly crumbles the sheet in 
his hand and hurls it frowningly at his feet. 

“ Pshaw ! This is childish.” 

What is ? We really do not know, but he said so, 
most assuredly, and rather loud too, for a chattering 
robin overhead fluttered timorously, at the sound, up 
to a higher bough. 

It was now verging on noon, and the Rev. Thomas 
Shadrick began slowly moving towards the tent. The 
Colonel was still holding communion with Morpheus — 
to him the only sensible way to spend a picnic. The 
two men had long since left for the “Willows,” deputing 
to Sin the care of the horses and dearborn. As the di- 
vine entered the mossy region where the tent was 
pitched, he almost stumbled over the sleeping form of 
the careless warrior, less vigilant in peace than war. 
Stepping aside, he turned towards the tent, and was 


Snap. 


159 


just entering it, when he heard a merry voice exclaim- 
ing, 

“ Halloa, there ! Going to hook provisions, Mr. 
Shadrick?” 

Blushing at he knew not what, he turned hastily 
around and met the laughing gaze of Dick and Gertie, 
stepping briskly away from the bank of the lake. 

“ Where are the others ?” continued Dick. 

“Skirmishing somewhere in the recesses of the 
woods, I suppose/’ said the divine, with anything but 
a joyous expression. 

“ Why, what a shame ! ” exclaimed Gertie. “ I had 
no idea we were all going to separate in this manner 
and leave you alone. Why, just look at your father, 
too, Mr. Stanton.” 

Dick glanced twice, first at Gertie with a merry re- 
proof in his eye, and then at the Colonel, who in 
reality needed no sympathy. 

“You don’t know him,” he said. “He’s in bliss 
now. But, I certainly am sorry, Mr. Shadrick, that 
we all left you so abruptly.” 

It was well for the divine’s conceit that he lost the 
smile which passed between the two after Dick’s 
apology. 

“ Here they come,” said Gertie. “ Have they been 
together all this time ? ” 


160 Snap. 


The clergyman checked himself as he was saying, 

“ Oh, no ; Miss Ray and Mr. Hart ” then added, 

“ I think strolled alone beyond Lake Rock.” 

Recalling the time, Sans-Souci and Ray had left 
their rocky nook, and just as they rounded the upper 
end of the lake encountered Eva and Ernest, who 
had leisurely proceeded tentward from their jaunt, 
sniffing the hour of noon. 

“Come, girls!” said Ray; “we must prepare lunch. 
Where are Harry and Sin? Why, just look at papa.” 

The laugh that followed Ray’s burst of surprise 
unlimbered the Colonel’s heavy orbs and caused him 
to glance around in astonishment. 

“ Well, you’re all here, are you ? ” he said. “ What 
are you laughing at, Ray ? Where’s Sin ? ” 

“ Why, you dear old thing, you ! ” said Ray irrever- 
ently. “ This is a nice way to spend a picnic, isn’t it ? 
Why, papa, I’m ashamed of you.” 

“ I don’t see why,” responded the soldier ; “ if any 
one should feel, ah — ,feel — ah — . Where’s Sin, 
Ray?” 

“ I really don’t know. Sin ! ” 

The Colonel had actually become unable to talk 
satisfactorily any more without Sin’s presence, and he 
felt piqued at his absence now. So he stood erect 
and glanced around him inquiringly. 


Snap. 


161 


u There he is ! ” exclaimed he, with a smile on his 
sternly tanned face. “ Just look at him.” 

Sure enough, there lay Sin, stretched out on the 
moss in the rear of the tent, his closed lids turned 
haughtily towards the sun and staring that august 
light full in the face. His was always a freckled and 
sunburnt visage, but now it was gloriously eclipsing 
itself and emulating the crimson splendor of a lobster. 

“ Why, what is that in Sin’s mouth ?” cried Ray, in 
alarm. “Those bees will sting him, Dick; brush 
them away.” 

Poor Sin, left alone and solitary, had wandered aim- 
lessly around the tent, and, peering curiously therein, 
had spied a tempting basket of apples, commonly 
termed “ bough.” Every one was absent, in spirit or 
flesh, so Sin verified his pseudonym and lay happily 
down in the shade of the tent to enjoy his theft. 
The extreme quiet of the scene and the heat of the 
day, added to his natural propensity to sleep, soon 
overcame the wakeful scruples of poor Sin, and his 
arm curled under his head, bringing the unfinished 
core of the apple on a line with his face, when sleep 
sent his soul to join the Colonel’s in the land of Nod. 
Had this been all, the trivial circumstance would need 
no comment ; but scarcely had he sunk into dream- 
land when a wandering band of brigandish bees came 


Snap. 


162 


to dwell, for the time being, on the sweet viand held 
so loosely in poor Sin’s hand. From a band these 
insect torments were rapidly swollen to a swarm, a 
multitude; and, had the tenters arrived less oppor- 
tunely, the miserable apple may have made the un- 
lucky Sin the basis of a bee-hive. To fill his cup to 
overflowing, the sun was now beaming angrily on his 
freckled face, making it a more attractive seat for the 
bees, and seeming to illustrate the adage, “ Sin is sin, 
whether seen or not.” 

“ It is strange their buzz does not awaken him,” 
said Ernest curiously. 

“ Papa, make Dick shoo those horrid things away, 
won’t you ? ” pleaded Ray. 

“ If you excite them, they will sting him,” Gertie 
suggested. 

“ Certainly they will,” indorsed Dick. 

“ Halloa! what are you people doing? Making a 
geological survey ?” exclaimed a boisterous voice, and 
Harry Skinner came running towards the group. 
“ Why, I know how to acquit him of that charge,” 
he added, when he perceived Sin’s predicament. 
“ Lend me a pail.” 

“ I’ll get you one in the tent, Harry.” And Eva 
disappeared for a minute, returning with a shining 
milk-pan. 


Snap. 


163 


Hastening to a spring near the lake, Harry soon 
stumbled back with the utensil running over with 
clear, cold water. 

“ Stand away ! ” he said authoritatively, whilst his 
eyes brimmed with suppressed merriment, which 
seemed contagious, for even the Colonel smiled ex- 
pectantly. Walking around the recumbent form, he 
gained a lateral position ; then, stepping back a few 
paces, he measured the distance with his eye and 
began swinging the pan. 

“ Oh, Mr. Hart ! don’t let him throw all that water 
on Sin ; it will give him a terrible cold ! ” And Ray 
clutched Sans’ arm with smiling anxiety. 

“ Shu-h-h-h ! ” said Dick. 

It was too late for any remonstrance from Sans, 
anyhow; for suddenly, with a loud whoop, Harry 
dashed the entire contents of the pan square on 
poor Sin’s head. 

It was almost painful to see his wild, deer-like 
spring as the inundation struck him ; but the recipe 
worked grandly, the bees, more alarmed than he, being 
scattered like chaff. It was a good shot, and Harry 
had fully cleared the head and shoulders, and now, 
with commendable kindness, was aiding the dum- 
founded Sin to blot the dampness from his* hair and 
painfully sunburnt face. 


164 


Snap. 


It was all a dream, a horrible dream, to Sin, and it 
required several minutes’ explanation from the com- 
bined excursion, who, after the exit of the bees, were 
enjoying the joke, for him to see the moral. At the 
mention of the apple his blushes exceeded the sun- 
set color of the sunburn. 

At length, leaving Sin to ponder over his state of 
being , the tenters' hurried to their canvas house and 
began making preparations for their lunch — all but 
the Colonel, who took his station at his former tree 
and watched their progress with growing interest. 

Even Shadrick, who seemed wofully absent-minded, 
bore a hand in this good work. A white cloth was 
spread daintily on the soft, yielding moss, and then 
decorated with the contents of the several baskets. 
Every one has eaten a picnic lunch, but no one ever 
ate more dainty viands than did these tenters at Lake 
Woods. 

Bread, so white and sweet ; cold ham and its com- 
pound sandwich ; ditto tongue ; pies and custards with 
the most esculent of crusts ; cake, or rather cakes — 
chocolate, jelly, lady, almond, pound, and sponge; 
sardines, olives, and a host of other viands equally 
as tasty ; and to wash these down were claret punch 
and lemonade. What more could even a literary 
critic wish ? 


Snap. 


165 


“ Come, papa! ” said Ray when all the preparations 
had been made and the group stood contemplating 
the spread in an agony of suspense ; “ head the table.” 

“ What posture must we assume ?” inquired the 
scholar anxiously. “ Recumbent, as the Roman ? ” 

“ Why, no,” corrected Harry ; “ we must eat 
Turkish — cross-legged, you know.” 

“ Well,” said Dick, “ let us accommodate ourselves 
to any position. Eating is the main point ; how we 
do it will come to us naturally.” 

The Colonel had arisen with great alacrity, and now 
led the charge on the lunch. Each one became a 
waiter or waitress, and as their hunger was gradually 
dissipated chatting and laughter joined hands with the 
lemonade and claret. 

“ Where did you seclude yourself, Mr. Shadrick ?” 
asked Ray during a pause. 

“ Oh, I wandered along the lake and through the 
woods,” returned the divine, who looked less gloomily 
pale than before the meal, “ amusing myself with the 
squirrels and birds.” 

“ Taciturn companions,” commented Sans. 

“ Not at all. They chattered as gaily as any of us.” 

“ Say !” exclaimed Harry, holding a piece of paper 
aloft, plainly covered with penciling. “ Look what I 
found near the lake. I was walking along, and I saw 


1 66 


Snap. 


this on the ground all crumpled and pressed, so I 
picked it up and read it.” 

“ What is it ?” asked Gertie. 

“ A piece of poetry.” 

“ Read it !” cried Ray, Eva, and Gertie in chorus, 
whilst the males smiled a similar request — all but poor 
Shadrick, who at the word poetry had glanced ner- 
vously at the crumpled page, and was now colored 
an alarming crimson. No one noticed him, however, 
and Harry, clearing his throat, read in tragic tones : 

“ I’ve met thee but thrice, 

Yet in that short space 
I’ve seen more beauty 
Enthroned in one face, 

Than had Venus of yore 
Or poor Helen of Troy ; 

Though enhanced by the art 
Of that mischievous boy — 

The arrow-winged Cupid — ” 


“ Is that all ?” inquired Ray, who had been a most 
attentive listener. 

“ Short and sweet,” Eva remarked. 

“Where did you find it?” inquired Dick, of Harry. 
“ Along the lake.” 

“ I wonder who wrote it ?” queried Gertie. 

“ Probably Sin,” laconically remarked the Colonel, 


Snap. 


1 67 


unconscious that this guess would elicit so much mer- 
riment. “ Call him. Halloa, Sin ! Come here.” 

“ Well, sir ? ” said that lad, still blushing at his late 
mishap, and supposing the Colonel was about to quiz 
him on that topic. 

<r Do you ever write poetry, Sin ?” 

Here was a poser. He write poetry ! Sin was al- 
most suffocated at the compliment. Was the Colonel 
going to raise his allowance or make him some ad- 
vantageous proposal ? It might be, so it took him 
scarcely a second to respond, as he thought, shrewdly, 
“Yes, sir.” 

“Ah? I thought so. Now you see you people 
laughed too soon. Look here, Sin,” he continued, 
taking the penciled effusion from Harry’s hands ; “ did 

you do — not do, but ah — ah ” 

“ Write, construct ” 

“ Yes. Did you write this thing, hey ?” 

Sin glanced rather longer than was necessary for 
him to detect his authorship, but he answered readily, 
with a quiver which passed for diffidence, 

“ Yes, sir.” 

Shadrick was literally struck dumb with admiration 
and relief. Here was a gloriously unexpected escape 
from an unpleasant examination ; but then what a 
wilful young liar this Sin must be ! 


i68 


Snap. 


“ Bless his enigmatical depravity ! ” thought Shad- 
rick. 

Compliments stunned the delighted dictionary. He 
was asked whether he kept all his poetry and why he 
had never made known so brilliant an accomplish- 
ment. Suddenly a thought seemed to strike the 
Colonel and he turned to Sin. 

“ Who did you mean this for ?” he said. 

Here was another halt ; but, instantly grasping the 
situation, Sin thought to add additional pleasure to 
his late confession by answering, 

“ You, sir.” 

The pseudo-poet simply stood and stared as this 
announcement was greeted with a burst of laughter. 
What had he done? That he had made some 
grievous mistake was evident. The Colonel looked 
actually foolish. 

“ Nonsense !” he exclaimed. “ What do you mean ? 
Look here : 


‘ I’ve met thee but thrice.’ 

How could you say that of me ? Then see here : 

4 But in that short space 
I’ve seen more beauty 
Enthroned in one face 
Than had Venus ’ 


Snap. 


169 


Oh, pshaw ! Why, what do you mean, Sin ? A 
joke, hey ?” 

The idea of joking the Colonel was as extravagant 
to Sin as it was irritable to the warrior ; so the very 
charge helped his invention to a remedy, and when 
the roars of laughter had somewhat ebbed, he hur- 
riedly explained: “No, sir; I meant the poem for 
you, but it was written on Miss Ray.” 

Rather a lame explanation this, but accepted by the 
Colonel and the rest with a laughing acquittal from 
further scouting, Ray thanking him for his compli- 
mentary opinions, and the soldier cautioning him 
against any serious attentions to his daughter. 

The divine had grown as nervous as poor Sin, scan- 
ning the latter’s face suspiciously ; whilst the youth- 
ful Ananias prayed for a crater to open under him, or 
even the fate of his ancient precedent. It was no 
wonder, then, both sighed with relief. 

So the lunch passed off — literally true, for Ray was 
forced to bring a fresh cargo from the tent to satisfy 
the hungry Sin. 

“Well,” said the Colonel, as they stood outside 
their cloth pavilion, “ I think I’ll start for ‘ Willows * 
presently, and leave you younger ones here alone. 
What time to-morrow shall I — ah — ah — Sin’s eating, 


lyo 


Snap. 


is he ? Oh ! ah ! come for you and the luggage, boys 
and girls ? ” 

“We won’t have lunch enough to last us over 
breakfast,” said Dick. 

“ Let’s gather herbs, and fish,” suggested Eva. 

“ I’m afraid we are not correctly built to live by the 
sweat of our brow just at present,” remarked the 
scholar; adding to Eva, “Don’t you remember 
the Stoic ‘ Sustain and abstain,’ and how awful you 
thought it ? ” 

“Well, I’ll be here at ten, then,” the Colonel 
decided. 

“ I think I shall return with you,” broke in Shadrick, 
who had become conspicuous by his gloomy silence, 
but now seemed much relieved whilst speaking. 
“You see,” he explained, “I have some pastoral 
duties to perform, which have accumulated during my 
absence ; and I fear I even did wrong in permitting 
myself to spend so agreeable a morning at their 
expense.” 

The divine thanked them all for their kind entreaties 
to remain, but pleaded such an idea as foreign to him 
from the start ; so, wavering only at Ray’s indignant 
pout, he simply hoped the others a jolly evening and 
changed the topic. 

Sin had now finished his meal, and was actively 


Snap . 


171 


engaged harnessing the horses to the dearborn, as 
Ray, Eva, and Gertie began busily clearing away the 
remnants of the feast, whilst the gentlemen lit cigars 
and threw themselves under the oak. 

In a few minutes Sin had driven to the group, and 
the Colonel and divine mounted to the front seat. 

“ Wait one minute, will you,” cried Harry, suddenly, 
“ until I get my duster ?” And off he darted to the tent. 

“ Why, you are not going, are you Harry ? ” asked 
Eva, in surprise, when he reappeared with that linen 
article on his arm and hastily scrambled beside Sin in 
the rear of the dearborn. 

“ Don’t you perceive, ma jolie ?” 

Harry was inflexible. They all sought and be- 
sought his reason, he protesting humorously that no- 
thing but business of a most urgent nature drew him 
from their midst. 

“ We must blame you for this, Mr. Shadrick,” ex- 
claimed Ray, with a half-woful smile which almost 
caused him to relent. 

“Drive on, Colonel,” said Harry. “I ought to go home, 
anyhow, and make mother feel comfortable, you know.” 

So the dearborn rumbled off, and was soon tum- 
bling out of sight. 

“ What a predicament for three young girls to be 
placed in ! ” exclaims the prude. 


CHAPTER XI. 


THREE OFFERS snapped up. — The gist of Ginger Snaps . 


Was it a predicament? Three interesting young 
ladies tenting alone with three correspondingly in- 
teresting young men — in a woods. Was it? Well, 
it might be under certain circumstances ; but here the 
prude is rude to smile an innuendo, for Ray and Dick 
were children of one father, ditto Sans-Souci and 
Gertie, whilst Eva was the scholar's scholar. So 
criticise who can. 

There they sat, pleasantly chatting. The gentle- 
men smoked and the ladies remonstrated, bringing 
about a chivalric discussion which lengthened itself to 
dusk, assuming many twists and phases. Evening 
brought out shawls and wraps, and lit a fresh cigar. 

“ Would you like a row on the lake ?” Dick softly 
asked of Gertie, just as the harvest-moon was com- 
placently laughing to see her own light chase away 
the sun’s. Poor duped one ! it was only borrowed, 
after all. 


172 


Snap. 


173 


“ Isn’t it dangerous ? ” she replied. “ They say it is 
awfully deep.” 

This dainty timidity of Gertie’s is what enchains 
Dick. It is so quaint and simple he feels like plung- 
ing in the lake of blue just to hear her agony of 
dread. Selfish man ! 

“ Oh, no; there’s nothing to fear,” he smiles. 

So they go rowing. 

“ Isn’t that horribly mean ! ” exclaimed Ray, as her 
brother accompanied Sans’ sister to the boat. 

“ I won’t commit myself,” he whispered ; and the 
moon shone dimly on her blush. 

“Where is this Lake Rock you two visited this 
morning?” asked Ernest carelessly. 

“Just on the other side,” Ray informed. “That 
high ledge opposite us.” 

“ Have you ever visited the lake from that quar- 
ter?” the scholar inquires of Eva. “I mean by 
moonlight,” he adds, as though fearing an affirmative 
reply. 

She had not. So, at least, she said ; because the 
historian can hear as well by moon as sun. 

So they went there. 

“ Hadn’t we better remain here ?” said Ray, in an- 
swer to Sans’ lukewarm invitation to follow the others 
to the lake. 


174 


Snap. 


“ I think so, by all means,” he answers smilingly. 

So they guard the tent. 

There was nothing strange about this. It was no 
predicament ; not in the least. The only curious fact 
was what came afterwards — what the harvest-moon 
views as its 

“ Long light shakes across the lake.” 

Even in daylight birds can tell no tales, much less 
at night, when fast asleep. 

Water, surely, will never rise in judgment against 
man, nor the fishes therein. 

Inorganic rock is dumb forever, and cannot tell a 
tale or stand State’s evidence. 

How, then, can history obtain the data of a love- 
tale, told under the branches of a sleeping oak ? How 
report a similar story whispered whilst a boat rocked 
gently to the tune, hidden in the shadow of a bank ? 
Or how, once more, when classically scanned in the 
jaw of a massive rock, which shut out even the in- 
quisitive moon ? 

Three requests were made not many years ago — 
indeed, within the shadow of the great Centennial ; 
made by the banks of a bluish lake whose depths had 
not been measured by a living soul. And at this 
place, strangely said to be propitious to every lover 


Snap . 


175 


whose heart was stirred by love as depthless as the 
lake, were returned three femininely favorable answers. 

The sweet, old story — so old that it is now estab- 
lished as the sea ! Why, then, relate its each particu- 
lar ? Truly speaking, we have too great a faith in the 
common sense of every reader to think that he or 
she would wish portrayed an original style of speak- 
ing forth one’s love. No, indeed; let it be original 
and it is false.” 

It may, for instance, be the agricultural “ Will you 
have me ? ” the ditty of the Western wilds, “ Will yer 
jine me ? ” the bashful “ I like you ; ” the plain “ Will 
you be my wife ? ” the passionate “ Darling, I love 
you ; ” or a thousand other combinations. But the 
ever-invariable answer, either fervent, diffident, or 
careless, is the simple Saxon “ Yes ” or “ No.” 

On this moonlight evening in July, Blue Lake ac- 
quired a place in history, by reason of three whispers 
— a timid trio of “ yeses.” 

We have all met persons whom nothing short of 
an end will satisfy; no ‘‘almost,” but only “all.” 
When eating they must have enough, and gorman- 
dize perhaps. This voracity attacks some business 
men, but here repletion is seldom attained, and con- 
sequently few business men retire. With them there 
is no stopping “ That will do,” but, “ Can’t I get some 


1 


176 


Snap . 


more ? ” It is human nature. In the student thirst- 
ing after knowledge, this is anything but a quality to 
be condemned ; but in the average novel-reader, 
dying to exhaust a plot, this is a trait which calls for 
a little indulgence from the author. Some critics must 
scent the hero to a fortune, must chase the heroine to 
a happy marriage, and thus unravel every item, crying 
for an appendix to the denoument. An abrupt stop- 
page condemns the whole tale. No original digres- 
sion, and he lacks competency who ceases when gar- 
rulity could say more. Yet we are martyrs to our 
sympathy, and start afresh the fountain of our story — 
not to quench, but just a parting drink. 

That night, when Eva, Ray, and Gertie had retired 
to their small but not uncomfortable apartment in the 
tent, all three seemed consciously reserved and shy. 
Ray glanced bashfully at Gertie, and vice versa. Poor 
Eva looked uneasy and constrained. Suddenly Ray 
darted impetuously at Gertie, and hugged her convul- 
sively. 

“ Gertie, I am going to be your sister,” she softly 
blushed. 

“ He told you, did he, dear ? ” said Gertie tremu- 
lously, whilst Eva’s eyes dilated with surprise. 

Ray had coyly hid her joyous face on Gertie’s 
shoulder, but at the latter’s trembling query glanced 


Snap. 


1 77 


hastily up. The joy was beaming in her friend’s as in 
her own sweet face, and like a flash Ray’s bump of 
intuition had delved into the truth. 

“ Oh, Gertie ! Dear old Dick ! ” she burst forth ec- 
statically. 

Poor Eva stood stunned with surprise. Her amaze- 
ment increased her restraint, and she was growing tear- 
fully nervous as she watched the other two rapt up 
in their new found joy. She could stand it no longer. 

“ You have forgotten me ,” she said, in a low voice. 

The emphasis unlocked the sisters, and they gazed 
in dubious wonder at their plump young friend. 

“ Why, you surely don’t mean 

“ Yes, I do,” she interrupted, with a sob of relief. 

The effect was simply electric, and passes the power 
of pen to detail ; so let us merely ask the reader to 
iterate the scene, with Dick, the scholar, and Sans- 
Souci as persona , and he has what happened in the front 
apartment of the tent. 

Truly this was a most aggravated case, and cum 
grano salis ; these fellows forfeiting their technical 
title to that word. 

Yet who would call this circumstance a strange one ? 
Circumstances make the total of our life, just as the 
sand is only triturated rock ; and they differ only in 
their size. 


CHAPTER XII. 


THE EFFICACY OF SNAP. 


Here, then, should end the tangent of our tale, but 
still its moral curves stubbornly on, and reaches to 
the environs of the present. So let us hastily proceed, 
traversing the crooked line until we find it suddenly 
snapped off — i. e. y not constructed farther. 

Sans-Souci did call a meeting of Stanton’s citizens, 
and, not to be too explicit, every improving plan he 
there presented was heartily endorsed. This meet- 
ing was held in the large lawn at “ Willows,” and by the 
Colonel’s support, and the Judge’s favoring remarks, 
became positively enthusiastic. 

Sans-Souci spoke of Stanton’s great attractions as 
a summer resort, enumerating the beauties of the creek, 
Lake Woods, and the sulphur spring. He advised 
the early construction of a town-hall, and submitted 
several plans whereby this feat might be accomplished. 
He called attention to the unpaved streets and 
sidewalks, the lighting of the town, and the external 

178 


appearance of the houses. “ Why not cross the creek 
with many rustic bridges ? Why not develop your 
sulphur spring by advertising it? Travellers should 
know your town, and, knowing it, will make its future,” 
he said. 

The legal quintette and the medical quartette each 
bore a hand in fanning to a flame the meeting’s zeal, 
whilst Dick and Ernest severally aided with their wit 
and argument. 

“ The Stanton Weekly ” in a three-column report 
of the above proceedings remarked : “ It was there- 

fore resolved that immediate steps be taken towards 
the erection of a town-hall, to be paid for by a course 
of lectures, fairs, and entertainments given in the First 
Presbyterian church, Rev. Thomas Shadrick, pastor. 
Mr. Hart will deliver the first lecture, next Mon- 
day evening, on, ‘ What Stanton needs! See advertise- 
ment.” 

These things had just occurred, and September was 
bearing from the orchards its golden wealth of fruit, 
when Sans-Souci and Gertie hurried to their New York 
home to mourn their aged father’s death. Like that 
event, this chapter is a mere conclusion; so our haste 
omits two months of mourning, and starts anew at Stan- 
ton. 

Sans-Souci had cleared the homestead of all its in- 


i8o 


Snap. 


cumbrances, and, as he and Gertie had been made co- 
equal in the inheritance, it was sold by mutual agree- 
ment, and both came back to Stanton, Ray, or Dick 
perhaps, compelling Gertie to return to “ Willows.” 

Need we give a full report of each lecture — 
Ernest’s, Shadrick’s, and the rest? Need we go 
with every one in Stanton to the fairs and entertain- 
ments at the First Presbyterian church? Certainly 
not, for this is merely an epitome, and should the 
reader wish to know of each and every small particu- 
lar, it can be found quite easily in the back numbers 
of the Stanton “ Weekly.” 

Just as the gentle spring was thawing winter from 
the soil “ Willows ” grew grand and hilarious with a 
great event. A trio married another trio, and the 
Rev. Thomas Shadrick performed the ceremony. Sin 
became actually anxious as to the permanency of his 
employment, the Colonel had spoken so fluently on 
that day. 

There was no tour, but a most eccentric little wed- 
ding trip. These three — for now the six were halved 
— accompanied by the Colonel, Harry Skinner, the 
divine, and Sin, riding in a dearborn, spent the day at 
Lake Woods. 

There was no tent this time, nor any apples to 
tempt poor Sin ; but the Colonel slept again, whilst 


Snap. 


1 8 1 


Harry and the clergyman rowed all around the bot- 
tomless lake. What the sextette did was odd. 

Ray and Sans-Souci revisited Lake Rock, Eva and 
Ernest returned again to the tallest tree in the county, 
whilst Gertie and Dick a second time whiled away 
the morning at a sulphur spring. 

Sans left the academy on his wedding-day and 
boarded with the Colonel for a while ; so “ Willows ” 
became merrier than its old walls had been since they 
arose, whilst Eva shed a light of love over the snug 
cottage and its master. 

“ Rather too happy an ending,” criticises the cyni- 
cal" reader with a smile. 

“Ah, growler!” we retort, “‘Truth is stranger/ 
etc.!” For know you this is not all a lie? What 
would the lexicographer think were we to say this is 
a figment of facts f or a festive pigment of fictive 
facts f 

Let him think what he pleases ; such it is. 

* * * ***** 

Tolerate us one page more. 

We cease to speak of Stanton in the past, and take 

the R. R., landing at its neat and busy little 

station. 


182 


Snap. 


Why, what a change ! The town seems full of snap. 
Its streets are paved and shining brightly when the 
moon keeps full. (It is whispered that a light called 
electric will be tried quite soon.) 

Rising high above the cottages stands a building 
symmetrical and an ornament — the town-hall. In 
this has been encased the glory of the town — its li- 
brary — the rival of the Academy, whose proprietor, 
on dit , married one of his pupils and has now ceased 
teaching, the school being conducted by two assist- 
ants, one of whom is the brother of his wife. 

The houses here in Stanton seem quite tasty and 
artistic, too. The creek has sodded banks and rustic 
bridges. The green sides — let Ireland blush — are 
fences to the prettiest of flowered lawns sloping from 
the neatest of cottages. 

“ Whose are they ?” we inquire. 

Well, Stanton has acquired some note of late, they 
say, owing chiefly to the sulphur spring, and these are 
summer residences, though the prettiest one, high up 
near “Willows,” belongs to Sans-Souci. “ Mr. Hart, 
you know — he built the place.” 

There seems to be quite a number of young law- 
yers in the town, and they must be doing well, for 
they all have houses on the creek, and old Dr. Le- 
crom, whom we know, tells us that once — like Troj'a 


Snap. 


183 


fiat — three young physicians came here, but fled when 
the sulphur spring was advertised. 

Rev. Thomas Shadrick, the pastor of the large brick 
church, has been conquered at last, they tell us, and by 
the alluring beauty of a certain Miss Irene, one of the 
pretty cottagers, who furthermore resembles young 
Mrs. Hart. 

Apropos of this, Edwin Hart, or Sans-Souci, as we 
hear him called, and who seems to be regarded as 
Stanton’s angel of light — it is reported that he has 
been solicited by the nominating convention of the 
predominant party to enter the political arena and 
make a cut for Congress. But enough ! this is the 
meridian of the present, and further talk is gossip. 

So much for snap . 


FINIS. 


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